


once you have tasted flight

by writing_addict



Series: build your wings from blood and stardust [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), 七つの大罪 | Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins
Genre: Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, Dragon & Human Interactions, Dragon Hybrids, Dragon Riders, Dragon-shifters, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Liones is basically Berk, Most characters aside from the first two are only mentioned, Multi, Night Furies (How to Train Your Dragon), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Telepathic Bond, Very Meliodas and Elizabeth-centric, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-01-16 23:37:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: One thing Elizabeth expected from shooting down the most powerful of the three Night Furies that plagued her tribe: recognition, fame, for her life to get infinitely better (okay, so three)One thing she didn't expect, however, was that she'd end up making the best friend she'd ever have. Or that she'd fall in love with him. Or that they'd end a war--you know what, there's a lot of unexpected consequences that come from befriending a dragon.Or: The How To Train Your Dragon AU that absolutely nobody wanted or needed, but that I'm throwing in here because I'm a self-indulgent little shit.Bacon, my dearie, this one's for you. Enjoy it.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BaconWaffle16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaconWaffle16/gifts).



> ahAHAHAHA--enjoy.

I.

Elizabeth swore softly as she hurried down the narrow trail, booted feet slipping on soft pine needles. Pushing silvery-blue hair out of her eyes, she narrowed her gaze as she peered over the edge of the ravine--and burst into another fit of very irritated, unladylike swearing. _Great. At this rate, I'll never find that damned dragon, and people will think that I'm a liar,_ and _my father is going to be furious._

Why did Night Furies have to be so _stealthy?_ A stupid question, really, considering that the entire threat of the three Night Furies plaguing the island of Liones was that they were too fast to make out in the shadows and too powerful for their defenses to hold up. As the daughter of the Chief of Liones, a man who didn't hold well with stupidity, Elizabeth's flights of fancy--of imagination, really, something those foolish elders (she loved her father, she really did, but she knew he had no clue what to do with a daughter who was born a runt, with runtish, non-Vikingish thoughts in her head) sorely lacked--had gotten her into enough trouble. Even when said flights of fancy were totally genius, _cough cough AHEM_ her precious Mangler (the _amazing_ contraption that had brought down the fastest and most dangerous of the Night Furies, regardless of what those idiots on the fire squad said) _cough cough_.

Elizabeth flipped open to her notebook's self-drawn map--yet another thing that had gotten her in trouble with her father; he believed that the youngest daughter of a Chief should be demure and quiet, her strength hidden, her curiosity satisfied through books and stories only. Her curiosity, however, was overwhelming and insatiable. Margaret was the leader and Heir, Veronica the soldier, but Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to be the princess. She wanted to fight, to explore, to go where no one else had gone before--and princesses didn't do that.

X'scovered the map, marking off dozens of possible locations, dozens of opportunities at making her father proud, all crossed out. _Stupid dragon, falling where I can't find it,_ Elizabeth thought irrationally, crossly, scribbling all over her beloved map (she knew she'd regret that later, but not as much as she'd regret spending three to five gods-damned hours out here hunting down a dragon that nobody's ever seen). _Bet the thing fell in the ocean and drowned. And I absolutely suck at swimming. "_ The gods hate me," she grumbled, snapping her notebook shut and tucking it away. "Some people lose their mug, or their knife, but _noooo_ , not me. Oh no, gods forbid I have _one single victory_ ; instead I manage to lose an entire _dragon!"_ She swatted irritably at a branch and it snapped back, smacking her hard across the face. Elizabeth let out a yelp of pain and clutched at her cheek, scowling at the branch...and she froze.

That, of course, was when--miracle of miracles!--her eyes landed on the broken trees, the deep, previously nonexistent trench in the earth, the marks of claws in the bark. Her eyes lit up, the cut on her cheek forgotten (she could always pawn it off as a battle wound from the strongest of the Night Furies later; ooh, she'd be a _legend_ if it scarred) as she scrambled down the hill, following the path of overturned dirt.

Elizabeth skidded down the trench, ghosting her fingers nervously over the size of the cuts in a root (trying not to think of what the claws that made those could do to her soft and squishy body) as she crested the rise, peering over it and--

And flattened herself to the dirt with a terrified gasp, all ideas of bravado and heroism suspended as she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to erase the scarred black shape (a vaguely predatory shape; something she had imagined to be spiky, with razor-sharp teeth and talons like axes) from her mind. There was no doubt about it--that had to be the Night Fury.

 _T-that thing was tied up in the bola, wasn't it?_ she thought suddenly, lifting her head and peeking over the soft dirt. Elizabeth carefully removed her knife--a present from her father before she'd become the black sheep of the Liones tribe, something to make her first kill that much more symbolic ("Look, kids," she'd tell her children, and she'd take out the knife, still covered with the dried blood of the dragon. "This is what your mom, the Dragon Conqueror"--oh, yes, she liked the sound of that-- "used to kill the most dangerous dragon known to Vikings, the unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself."). Pointing it (with hands that didn't shake; at least, that's what she'd tell the others) at the Night Fury as she stumbled over the small hillock, she pressed her back again a large stone and shut her eyes tightly, steeling herself.

_I'm not going to fail anyone ever again._

With that, she stood up and shuffled her way within the beast's devastating range. Her eyes widened as she glanced at it, giving it a brief once-over and registering none of it. Its appearance didn't matter, it was clearly dead, unmoving, its ebony scales dull. Elizabeth sucked in a breath, unsure of whether she was excited or about to go into hysterics (probably a little of both?), and pushed her bangs shakily out of her eyes. "I did it," she breathed, creeping closer--and then _stalking_ closer, filled with bravado again, trying once more to be every inch the warrior. "Oh, gods, this fixes everything! YES!" She punched the air eagerly, advancing. "I have brought down this mighty beast!" The silver-haired Viking girl grinned and placed a foot on its leg, glowing with pride--and was thrown off with a gasp.

 _It moved._ And not only had it moved, but it had made a noise--a noise like a wail of pain crossed with grief and anger. A noise that she...that she'd _interpreted_ . As if it was made by a _human_.

 _But that's impossible,_ she thought, leveling her knife at it, trying not to shake with fear as her eyes roved over its body. How had she possibly thought it was dead? The dull scales were in fact glittering with a liquid brilliance, its stillness the absolute silence of a true predator, every inch of its body coursing with flickering vitality that was mimicked in scales that weren't pure black, but were in fact edged with some sort of white-gold. _The unholy offspring of Lightning and Death indeed._ And its eyes! Elizabeth braced herself for a yellowed glare, or pale, cold eyes burning with hatred, with animalistic terror.

But its eyes were green. Brilliant, vibrant emerald green, shining up at her and filled with pity--pity, as if she, the hunter, needed pity!--and regret, a sense of haughty dignity and pride. A terrifyingly human expression.

 _If I keep looking it in the eye, will I be able to kill it?_ Probably not, she realized, trying to tear her eyes away. And yet somehow, she simply _couldn't_. The emotion, the intelligence she felt from it---this was no dumb animal, no mindless killer. This was...she didn't know what it was, but it went against everything she'd ever been taught. 

Her entire life, the hopes she'd had--this dragon held her fate in its talons, and the thing didn't even know it. _You have to kill it,_ a voice, sounding suspiciously like Veronica, hissed in her mind. _It's your duty as a Viking!_

She raised the knife. "I'm...I'm going to kill you, dragon," she gasped out. "I-I'm going to cut your heart out and t-take it to my father."

_Yes, good. Make Father proud._

_But why should I have to make him proud enough to love me?_ another voice protested, this one soft, but burning with some kind of intensity that Elizabeth knew she lacked. _I'm his daughter. He should love me and trust me no matter how un-Vikingish I may be._

She flinched and her grip weakened. _But you're a Viking, like it or not. Vikings kill dragons,_ the soldier-voice hissed.

Right. Viking. Kill dragons. _Monsters,_ she tried to remind herself fiercely. "I am a Viking," she growled, before raising her voice. "I am a _Viking!"_

The dragon's green eyes burned with sudden fear, and a rumble escaped its throat. She shut her eyes, unable to look at it, to see the eyes that reflected her own, and raised the knife higher. _One stab. One cut._

But she opened one eye--and watched the dragon lower its head with another half-shriek half-moan, baring its throat, green eyes closed. _Make it quick,_ it seemed to be saying. _Do it now._

_Yes! Do it!_

**_NO!_ **

With a noise like a sob, Elizabeth pressed her hands to her forehead, dropping her arms. This one choice would ruin her life, or at the very least do nothing to fix it...but she couldn't deliver the deathblow. A failure of a Viking. _Add it to the pile,_ she thought ruefully, lowering the blade to her side and staring at the dragon.

It really was a magnificent beast, built like a wildcat in its lean muscle and sleek body, black scales dusted with lightning and stars. She didn't know why she'd pictured spikes and horns and giant talons--while large, the dragon was smaller than a Zippleback or a Nadder, and it had no horns at all. _Built for devastating speed and power...it's beautiful._

And now it was tied up and injured, waiting for death. "I did this," she whispered, bile rising up in her throat. Elizabeth took a step back, turning to leave--she couldn't stay, not knowing that she'd caused this majestic creature's life to end--before glancing back at it. A sigh escaped her. _I can't believe I'm doing this..._

A few seconds later, she was crouched by its side, sawing determined through the ropes of the bola that bound it. The things were tougher than she imagined--a few bits of iron woven in (hey, hadn't that been her suggestion? She'd have to talk with her mentor about calling her an idiot less and about a little thing called plagiarism) to make it more difficult to break--but the sturdy knife tore through them bit by bit. Elizabeth snapped through the last one, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't seen.

It moved so fast that she could barely see it, leaping on her and pressing its claws to her throat as it shoved her against the rock. Her breath came in short, quick gasps, eyes widening as she found those frighteningly human green eyes staring her down, pupils drawn into slits. _This is it. I'm going to die, alone and lost in the forest, all because I couldn't kill a dragon._ The realization didn't calm her in the slightest, and she tried not to think about the gashes in the trees.

The Night Fury growled before shrieking loudly in her face, a rush of hot air and rage exhaled onto her all at one, before whipping around and flying off with a screech. Elizabeth watched it go, smashing into trees and rocks, her breathing still uneven.

_I'm alive._

_So is the dragon._

_We didn't...kill each other. We broke the first rule of our races, which is to kill each other on sight._

_I am so fucked._


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A downed dragon is a dead dragon. Unless the downed dragon also happens to have spared the life of a human as is currently in the middle of a minor existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: I invoke the gods of suffering to cause Meliodas to question the entire order of his world.

Meliodas was absolutely furious. No, wait, that was an understatement.

He was _livid._ Yes, that was a far better word for what he was feeling right now. He was plasma-glowing, spines-shivering, claws-quaking angry, and the worst part about it was that he wasn't angry at the stupid human girl who'd spared his life (well, not entirely). He was angry at _himself._ Which was rare, since he was fear incarnate, at least to those Vikings--including the one he'd spared, and then flown away from like a coward.

He slammed into a tree (what the _hell_ , he was the best flier in the Dragon King's army, how was it that he couldn't navigate a damn _forest_ ) and let out a wordless roar of annoyance as he tumbled into--shit, shit _shitshitshit_ **_FUCK!_ **

Right into a daylight-damned cove. The shock of the fall shuddered through him, and he remained utterly still for a moment, air shuddering out through his nostrils as he started to push himself to his paws. _Alright...well, I'm still alive. Somehow._ Meliodas scratched behind one of his ear-flaps with his claws, wincing as he rubbed against an old battle scar. His eyes roved over his surroundings, noting high rock walls, a few scattered saplings and a pawful of larger trees that possibly bore fruit. There was also a small lake. _At least I won't die of dehydration down here,_ he thought irritably. The Night Fury shook himself moments later, huffing. _What am I saying? Of course I'm not going to die here; I'll be gone as soon as my wounds are healed._

 _Speaking of wounds, I should probably make sure mine aren't too serious._ Meliodas stretched, wincing as his bruised muscles protested, before shifting to semi-human form reluctantly. The feeling of soft skin and of hair (anything but scales, really) were almost alien to him now; the Dragon King forced all dragon-shifters to remain in dragon form 100% of the time, but it was simply easier to check one's injuries on a body that show easily showed weakness.

It was also as good an excuse as any to disobey his father now that he was out of range of his control.

Balancing, however, was annoyingly difficult; how did humans do it with those stick legs of theirs? The Night Fury crouched with a grumble of annoyance, flopping onto the soft earth with a sigh as he ran his fingers over his bruises. _Nothing broken--hah, dragon bones are far stronger than those flimsy human things. A fall like that, though...I got lucky. Lucky that they didn't have more of those contraptions, or dragons would be in a lot of trouble._ His scale-covered hands rested on a few cuts where the ropes had dug into his skin, and he scowled with displeasure. Those things had been sharp, enough so to dig through his fireproof hide with ease. Those would be a bitch to clean out, but nothing permanent, at least.

Meliodas flexed one of his wings, eyeing it warily as he splayed it out, touching it worriedly. There were a few scrapes that would heal fairly quickly, and the other one was only bruised. _Nothing wrong with them...so why was my flying so bad?_ He thumped his tail on the ground in annoyance, and nearly doubled over in pain as his fins collided with the ground. _Oh, daylight, no..._

Steeling himself, he glanced over at his tailfins--and resisted the urge to either scream or sob, he wasn't sure which. Which was ridiculous, seeing as he was the best, most ruthless soldier there was.

 _Not anymore,_ an insidious voice whispered. _You'll never fly again. You'll die here, stuck in this little cove, alone and friendless. Your brothers certainly won't mourn, and neither will those so-called friends of yours._

Meliodas cradled his tail on his lap, running his fingers over the mangled flesh in disbelief. _It's really...gone._ He could recall a bolt of pain shooting through his tail when the girl's contraption had shot him down, but he'd never imagined, never allowed himself to think that she'd...she'd _grounded_ him. Cut one of his tailfins off, made him useless. Made him _nothing_.

_After all...a downed dragon is a dead dragon._

He shifted back into dragon form, curled up, and shut his eyes tightly, praying it was all a nightmare.

\--

Okay, so somehow, he wasn't dead yet. _I guess two days aren't enough,_ Meliodas thought wryly, perched on a rock that was as close to the top of the cove as he could get (the others were all too high for him to reach--gah, that hurt to acknowledge). The Night Fury flicked his ruined tail and glared at it--tailfin or no tailfin, he was still going to get the hell out of the death-trap cove somehow. He'd fly out of here on pure stubbornness if necessary.

He sprang, power-flapping upwards with a wordless shriek of annoyance, before feeling gravity's pull on him again, yanking him down by the dead weight of his tail (which, ironically, had healed quite nicely). With a sudden surge of panic, he clawed wildly at the rock with another cry, skidding back down and scrabbling at the rock in a horribly undignified way before pushing off of it, spreading his wings and clumsily gliding to the other side of the lake. His landing was less-than-stellar ( _say goodbye to your pride_ , he thought dully). A hiss of annoyance escaped him as he shook the dirt from his scales, stomping bad-temperedly on the soft earth before staring up at the insurmountable walls of his prison. _No, they're not insurmountable,_ he chastised himself fiercely. _They're just walls. Walls are nothing to a Night Fury!_

Meliodas launched himself upward again, but his balance was still off, his useless tail still dragging him down. A rumbling groan tore from his throat as he slammed into the wall--hello, bruises--and fell back to the ground, wings splayed wide. _Again,_ he commanded himself, trying to adopt the demanding voice of his father.

He failed again. And again, and again, and again. Just as he had the day before, and the day before that.

It was an irritatingly vicious cycle.

With a growl of annoyance, he shifted to semi-human form, his body becoming bipedal and shrinking in size. Hunger immediately stabbed at him and he grumbled aloud; while his dragon form didn't need to eat every day (he'd certainly prefer it, of course), both his human and semi-human forms needed to.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and his ear-flaps pricked up, eyes narrowing at a small school of fish swimming in the lake. His stomach growled again in delight, and his mouth watered (how long had it been since he'd had a good, fresh fish? Most of the time he only dined on whatever he and the other "soldiers" were thrown from the king). Plunging his small human body into the shallows, he grabbed at them with his claws and snapped at them wildly, ignoring the chill of the water--and missed every single time. _This is becoming a thing, isn't it,_ Meliodas thought gloomily, breaking the surface of the lake and shivering as the cold air surrounded him. He exhaled a spark or two to scorch the ground and warm him up (he didn't feel like returning to full dragon form just yet; seeing himself as the most powerful dragon aside from the King and knowing that he was still going to die here, useless and alone, would only depress him further), settling onto the scorched earth. "So much for Night Furies being the best hunters there are," he muttered aloud, and was pleased to find that his human voice _wasn't_ entirely gone from years of disuse.

There was a gasp from above, and the clatter of something falling, and he looked up to see the human girl who had done this to him in the first place. A...square _thing_ with a sheaf of what looked like thin tree-bark was clutched in one hand, and the other was reaching for what seemed to be a stick with charcoal on it. _Weird._ He'd never understand humans.

Meliodas lifted his head and met her eyes--a startling blue (dare he say that it was _beautiful_ ? No, but very few dragons had blue eyes, so he supposed could at least call it _interesting._ Which was more than most humans had going for them). He expected a wave of hatred to rise up in him at the sight of her-- _she_ had done this to him, damnit; reduced him to a cripple who would never fly again, much less get out of this cove--but all he sensed was...compassion?

That was stupid. Dragons didn't _have_ compassion; their emotions were stripped from them by the Dragon King once they matured. The only way to regain them would be to snap his control, and that was...that was impossible.

**But the longer he looked, the less sure he felt that the impossible was truly...well, _impossible_ .  
**


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth would like to ask the past generations what the fuck they thought they were putting in the Dragon Manual, because this had taught her nothing.  
> Time to disobey the fundamental law of her species and go hang out with a dragon-thing.

"What did Elizabeth do wrong today?"

 _Well, I committed about eighty different kinds of treason and made an earth-shattering discovery,_ she thought dryly. Drenched from trekking back to the village through the downpour, starving (she hadn't eaten since before heading out to look for the dragon-human- _thing_ ) and absolutely _freezing_ cold (a staple of life on Liones, of course, but that didn't make it any less annoying), she was in no mood to listen to Denzel's criticism of her failures in dragon training. So what if she was a little distracted by trying not to die? So what if she was busy wondering if everything she'd ever been taught was wrong?

"She showed up," one of the older kids commented, and Elizabeth made a face at them behind their back.

"She didn't get eaten," another added, and she rolled her eyes. _Thank you so much for that vote of confidence._ The silver-haired girl scooped up a plate of cold food and, already anticipating the exclusion, shuffled over to a table where she could still hear Denzel, but was far away enough to ignore their jibing.

"She's never where she should be," Diane, a childhood friend of hers, said sharply. Elizabeth glanced at her, but her old friend's eyes were like flint. _Right. Slaughtering dragons before all else. Can't blame her, I guess; she did lose her family in a raid..._

 _"_ _Thank_ you, Diane," Denzel sighed, eyeing the recruits with an air of disappointment. Elizabeth snorted as she squeezed water out of her mane of silver hair. Her uncle gave her a sharp look and she raised her eyebrows. _What? I'm listening. Mostly. At least you're already used to me being the disappointment of the group; can't wait to see how you handle Gustaf and Jericho, though. Idiots."_ You need to live and breathe this stuff," he went on, and tossed a thick leather-bound book onto the more crowded table. _Great, so now I have to move over there. "_ The Dragon Manual. Everything we know about every dragon we know of." Thunder boomed overhead and the recruits (Elizabeth excluded; she already knew it was storming and after seeing a dragon turn into a..half-dragon, she wasn't sure anything would surprise her) jumped. Denzel towards the doors of the Great Hall and slung his sword over his back, already trotting out. "No attacks tonight. Hurry up."

"Wait, you mean read?" one of the older boys protested. "While we're still alive?"

"Why read when you can just kill the stuff the words tell you stuff about?" one added irritably. _Um, because that way you know how to not get killed in the process? Dumbasses._

Gowther, a boy who was her age and was teased nearly as frequently for his effeminate build and love of books, brightened. "Oh, I've read it like, seven times. There's this water dragon that sprays boiling water at your face, a-and there's one that buries itself in sand for like--"

"Yeah, there was a chance I was gonna read that," Jericho grumbled. The younger of two twins and desperate to prove herself, Elizabeth wasn't sure whether she was impressed by her reckless devil-may-care nature, or absolutely terrified. Either way, Jericho had made it absolutely clear that she disliked (hated, really) her, so she ignored her as best she could. "But now..."

"You guys read, I'll go kill stuff," someone snarked, the others bickering as they got up to follow. Elizabeth sighed, shuffling over to the vacated table, glancing at her old friend. _Maybe...maybe I can rekindle that friendship. I hope._

"Want to share?"

"Read it," Diane muttered, shoving it towards her. Elizabeth stiffened indignantly as the girl grabbed her war-hammer and stalked away without looking back. _Okay, so, that was fucking_ rude _. Gods forbid you have one friend, future Shield Maiden and all that._

She snatched up the book and a candle with a huff, taking the heavy book to her table. Elizabeth dropped it onto the wood with a sigh, sitting on the bench as she traced her fingers over the draconic symbol burned into the leather. The candlelight shining through the murky darkness of the empty Hall seemed to make shadows take strange forms, twisting and turning around her--Zipplebacks creeping over the walls, spiky Nadders storming her from the corners of the room, Night Furies that didn't quite _look_ like Night Furies descending from the ceiling. She shivered, flipping open the book and running her fingers over the smooth pages. There were generations worth of information stored in this book, a wealth of knowledge that none of her classmates seemed to comprehend.

Maybe this could answer her questions.

"Dragon Classifications," she read aloud, brushing her fingers gently over the Norse runes. "Strike Class, Mystery Class, Fear Class." _Wonder which one the Night Fury is in._ She flipped the page, eyes falling to an intricate drawing of a large dragon blasting off a Viking's head. "Thunderdrum. This reclusive dragon inhabits sea caves and dark tide pools. When startled, it produces a concussive sound that can kill a man at close range." Her eyes narrowed at the following words. "Extremely dangerous, kill on sight." _On sight? Wouldn't that just provoke it?_ She shook her head and turned the page.

"Timberjack. This giant creature has razor-sharp wings that can slice through full-grown forests." She shivered at the picture of a snarling dragon cutting down trees and Vikings simply by soaring through them. _We're lucky those don't raid us often. "_ Extremely dangerous..." Her voice faltered. "Kill on sight."

"Scauldron."  _This looks like the one Gowther was talking about. "_ This dragon sprays boiling-hot water at its victims. Extremely dangerous-" Thunder boomed, louder than before, and she let out a gasp of shock as the shadows jumped around her. _This might not have been the best night to read this..._

"C-Changewing," she continued, her fingers shaking slightly. "Even newly hatched dragons can spit deadly acid. Kill on sight." Her eyes roved over the pages as she flipped through them rapidly, trying not to think about how the pictures seemed to move on the paper. "Gronckle, Zippleback--the Skrill." Her voice faltered at the mention of the Berserker Tribe's mascot, a dragon supposedly on par with a Night Fury. _But they're long dead, I think_ , she assured herself, ignoring the traitorous pang of sadness. "Boneknapper... _Whispering Death_." Another shudder ran through Elizabeth's body at the eerie image of the leering, wormlike dragon. "Burns its victims, chokes its victims, buries its victims, turns its victims inside out”-Props for creativity, she thought, feeling ill- "extremely dangerous, extremely dangerous...kill on sight, kill on sight, kill on sight."

 _W-Well, this has taught me absolutely nothing I didn't already know,_ Elizabeth thought, caught somewhere between frustration and fear, turning pages rapidly until she reached one of the last ones, a page that was nearly blank. The runes at the top spelled out the object of her search, and her eyes widened as she read it, voice an awed whisper. "Night Fury. Speed unknown, size unknown." Her voice shook as she reached the sentence at the bottom:

_"_ _Never engage this dragon. Your only hope: hide and pray it does not find you."_

Except she had engaged it. And she'd sought it out, and found it, and she was still here, still breathing, and she knew far more about the Night Fury than the Dragon Manual did. Hesitantly, with hands that quivered (from fear or adrenaline or wonder, she wasn't sure), she drew out her sketchbook, flipping it open to the picture she'd drawn of the strongest Night Fury before it-he-whatever it was had taken on that strangely humanoid form.

_So much for hiding._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm way too proud of this


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meliodas refuses to acknowledge the fact that he finds humans interesting, and resolves to be uninterested in this idiotic human's antics.  
> It...doesn't work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, guys. This is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for."  
> *deep gasp* IT'S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---

_Oh, fuck me,_ Meliodas grumbled mentally, watching the human stumble into his cove (it was kind of alarming how fast he'd gone from calling it a prison--which it was, seeing as he couldn't fly out of it--to his _home_ , his _territory_. Maybe it was because the King couldn't reach him here?). _Is she stupid? She_ must _be stupid, to knowingly seek out a dragon like me. I guess I could excuse the first time, since it was kind of by accident...ugh. This is going to be--holy shit, is that food? I smell food._ He pricked his ears slightly, inhaling. _Salmon...and metal. The idiot brought a knife; like that'd do anything to me._ He sniffed haughtily, flattening himself to the rock. He'd seen the tiny dagger she'd wanted to kill him with; the thing wouldn't be able to kill a newly-hatched Terrible Terror, let alone a Night Fury.

Unless said Night Fury was crippled and tied up, but he shoved that to the back of his mind and shifted on the rock, narrowing his eyes at the human girl. He supposed that (by human standards, which were fairly low considering that most of them were hideous and annoyingly squishy) she was quite pretty--taller than his human form, with eyes the color of cloudless skies and hair like starlight. He didn't quite understand how "beauty" worked for humans; they didn't have magnificent hides of jewel-bright scales that they could polish to perfection and show off like his brothers did. Their hair seemed to be every color that possibly existed, though, so maybe that was like scales for them. Either way, the silver was really quite striking against the dull colors of her clothing; it was a pity it was tied back into a weird rope-like style.

Meliodas _supposed_ that the logical thing to do in this situation would be to wonder if it was a trap--he didn't _think_ it was; if _he_ was the one setting a trap for the deadliest dragon in the Britannian Archipelago, he'd have brought far better weapons than just a tiny knife (probably a sword; the humans were very creative with those and he did like seeing the effectiveness of different styles). Weaponry aside, though, he didn't think that the girl intended to kill him. Mostly because she'd already had ample opportunities to and had instead freed him, then come back to annoy him from afar. Which was, frankly, idiotic; they were in the middle of a damn _war_. He would've killed her in a second had she been in his position.

 _Liar,_ a tiny voice that sounded like his old best friend hissed, sounding amused. Meliodas shoved it away with a snort, causing the human female to stiffen and turn towards him. A little thrill of delight ran through him at the sudden awe in her eyes as he crept forward, jumping from the rock with a rumbling growl (but no fear, for some reason; no, there was wonder and shock in her eyes, but no fear whatsoever. It was kind of unsettling). _That's right. Admire your natural enemy in all his deadly glory. Go on._

 _And then give me food, because I am seriously hungry; the fish in that lake are bony and disgusting and I want salmon._ He eyed her warily as she held out the fish, mouth watering against his will as the tantalizing smell entered his nostrils. Her hands shook as she offered it to him and he edged closer, opening his mouth, letting his teeth slide into his gums, and preparing to snap down on it--

 _Trap._ His eyes fell on her dagger, concealed oh-so daylight-damned _cleverly_ beneath her vest, and he snarled in rage, stepping back. The stupid human dared attack _him? You shouldn't have trusted her; you're such an idiot, Meliodas!_ he berated himself, baring his teeth at the frightened-looking human. _Of course she's smarter than the rest of those fools, of course she came up with this twisted and convoluted plan to kill me; she's a monster just like the rest of her kind! I'll blast her into oblivion if she tries, I'll kill her, I'll rip her limb from limb--_

She dropped the dagger to the ground, the blade thudding against the soft earth. He stared at it in disbelief before glancing up at her (stupidly pretty) open, trusting face. _Is she...really putting down her weapons? Is she even a Viking? I bet she'll pick it back up the second I try something, though. Unless..._ Meliodas narrowed his eyes at her and nodded to the lake with a low growl, watching in utter amazement as she scooped it up with her foot and kicked it into the water. _She can't possibly be a Viking. Vikings aren't supposed to do...whatever she just did._

"I know you can speak," she said suddenly, and he glanced at her, digging his claws into the ground. Her voice was light and cheerful, unusual for someone who had grown up in a war zone. "A-and shift forms. I saw you. So you can do that now--if you want, that is!" she was quick to add.

 _Yeah, you weren't very subtle about the whole watching thing,_ he thought, suppressing a snort. And who was she to demand him to change forms? He was a prince of dragons, damnit, their strongest warrior. He didn't have to do what a _Viking_ said, much less a human girl who seemed to be ridiculously fragile, even for her kind, who were notoriously weak without their weapons. He scoffed at the very idea of it, turning away haughtily.

But... _If you want to._ Stars, he couldn't remember the last time someone had cared about what he wanted. His father certainly hadn't, and his mother had died not long after Zeldris hatched. His sort-of friends were long gone now, ripped away from his life because of _his_ first ( _and only_ , he forced himself to think, ignoring the fact that here he was, consorting with his worst enemy) mistake. The idea that a human would be the first to ask was laughable, but here was a human, a _Viking,_ of all things, and she was the first to actually ask what he wanted.

With a huff, he dropped his threatening stance, most of his scales melting away as he sat back on his haunches. _I won't talk to her, though_. He planted his hands on the ground to steady himself as he blinked up at her and--oh, stars, that fish looked _way_ too delicious. He ran his tongue over his flat gums, creeping forward again. She crouched--was she _taller_ than him?--holding out the salmon and furrowing her brow at him slightly as he padded closer ( ~~close enough to touch~~ near enough to kill her if he chose; but he _wouldn't_ because he wasn't a _complete_ asshole, mortal enemies or not). "Toothless," she remarked, and he resisted the urge to grin as his eyes flicked up to meet hers because _hah_ , this would be hilarious. "I could've sworn you had--"

Meliodas let his fangs snap out of his gums, clamping them down of the fish before ripping it out of her grip, tossing it back and swallowing it whole. A croon of pleasure escaped him as the salty flavor sang on his tongue, closing his eyes instinctively in response to the delicious taste. _That's_ so _much better than bony little lake fish..._ He opened one eye slightly, watching her subtly where she stood, hands raised in the position that she'd recoiled from him in. "Teeth," she finished shakily, and he wrestled with the urge to laugh. _That's the least of my kind's secrets, human._

She really wasn't at all like the other humans; not in build or size. The human didn't even have the lean muscle that females of her kind normally sported, but she was still out here trying to do...do _something_ with the strongest Night Fury. _Is she suicidal, or stupid, or just really, really reckless?_ She looked kind of underfed as well, and he huffed, padding closer. _I guess I can share, then._

The human girl stumbled back as he stalked closer to her, a rumble coming from his throat as he tilted his head, green eyes on blue. "No--" she gasped out, falling back and shuffling against a rock. "I--I don't have any more--"

 _I know that; I'd smell it if you did._ He shifted to full dragon again, half-closing his eyes as he regurgitated half of his salmon into the human's lap, shifting back and wrapping his tail around his legs as he sat across from her. She eyed him in askance, and he rolled his eyes before looking pointedly at the fish and then at her face. _Come on, I was gracious enough to share. Don't let it go to waste or I'll--I'll eat your left leg, I guess._ He immediately shuddered at the idea; humans tasted absolutely _terrible_. Not that he'd ever eaten one, but those that had told him the taste was disgusting.

She slowly raised the fish towards her mouth and he nodded encouragingly _(look how the mighty have fallen,_ he thought dryly. From blowing up catapults to trying to coax a human to eat. Just to pay her back for bothering to get him something worth eating, of course). The silver-haired girl rolled her eyes and sank her teeth into the salmon, ripping off a bite with a shudder. "Mmm," she grumbled around the fish, before lifting it towards him with a hopeful look on her face. "Mmm?"

 _You haven't actually eaten anything yet, dumbass._ He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her idiocy--really, did humans not comprehend such a simply concept as swallowing their food? He knew they chewed it more than dragons did, but really, how did _any_ of them survive past nestling age? _I have to do everything around here._ With a huff of annoyance, he swallowed, lifting his chin so that she could see the way his throat moved. She lowered the fish and glared at him, and he raised his eyebrows at her, irritated by the sudden spark of worry in his chest. _What did I do_ now?

The human female shook her head at him before swallowing, shuddering as she did so and making a weird noise that he translated as "disgusted". Meliodas pricked his ear-flaps at her, tilting his head with a frown, and she blinked at him before smiling. At least, he thought it was a smile; but it didn't look like a dragon's smile. There were less teeth involved, and he was fairly certainly that it wasn't meant into intimidate, not like dragon smiles were. Her eyes were crinkled slightly at the corners, too, and...was her face _supposed_ to light up like that? Hesitantly, he started trying to pull his mouth up the same way hers did, teeth sliding back into his gums as muscles he normally didn't use suddenly twitched to life.

Meliodas was fairly certain that he'd messed it up somehow and it had turned into a horrible sort of grimace; there was no way his expression looked remotely like the girl's--so why did she look so pleased with herself? Why was she standing up, reaching out and _\--o_ _h no._ A bolt of instinctive fear (interesting or not, she was still a Viking and Vikings _killed dragons_ and he was probably going to _die_ \--) lanced through him and he reared back with a snarl, lashing his mangled tail before springing into the air and gliding clumsily over to the opposite shore of the lake.

 _No matter how different from the rest of your foolish kind you are, you still cut off my tail._ He glared across the lake at her was her small figure stood and started walking, ~~dreading~~ hoping that she would leave now. Searing the ground with his plasma and settling onto the warm earth, Meliodas thumped his tail listlessly on the ground, tapping his black claws on the scorched earth as a sense of discomfort settled over him. _This is boring,_ he grumbled to himself, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the clouds. _Why does that idiot daylight-damned human have to be the most interesting thing that's happened all week?_ Maybe there was _some_ worth in keeping her around, if only for ~~good company~~ something interesting to toy with.

A bird twittered above him and he sat up, ear-flaps pricking up as he followed the yellow creature's flight. _No fair,_ he thought forlornly, and then shook himself briskly. Since when had he cared about _fair?_ That was something for humans to worry about. _I'm going soft. And speaking of humans..._ Footsteps halted next to him and he glanced over at the girl, who sat cross-legged a few feet away. _She didn't leave?_ he wondered, and was promptly horrified by the feeling of delight the realization sparked within him. _WAY too soft; you need to get the hell out of here._

She waved at him, and he lowered his ear-flaps with a snort, lying back down and facing away from her. _Maybe tomorrow._ He swept his tail around his body, draping the end of it over his neck as he closed his eyes. _Maybe if she doesn't come...and doesn't try to touch my tail in my sleep, what the fuck, ever hear of privacy?_

He lifted his head and glared balefully at her as she recoiled, raising her hands apologetically before getting to her feet and trotting away. Meliodas huffed, shaking his head in annoyance and loping away, pushing his wild yellow (didn't humans call it blond? It was blond, right?) hair out of his eyes. Clambering up into his favorite tree, he looped his tail around the sturdiest branch and hung upside-down, wrapping his wings around his body as he yawned. _Alright, human, I'll deal with you whenever I wake up._

_\--------------------------_

It was almost nightfall now, and the human was _still here._

Meliodas watched her from his tree, sprawled lazily over the branch. The silver-haired girl had undone her hair from that rope-like configuration (it really was a lot longer than he'd thought) and was rubbing at the dirt with a stick. _What in daylight's name...no, don't bother. You're not curious, you're a Night Fury, and Night Furies are majestic and powerful and all-knowing._ He turned his head away with a huff, unfurling a wing to block his view with a muttered curse.

Except he really _was_ curious, because he'd stolen her charcoal-stick from her last visit without being able to figure out its purpose, and this at least looked somewhat similar to that."Damn you, stupid human," he groused under his breath, dropping his wing and sitting up on the branch, narrowing his eyes at her. From what he could see, she was making lines in the dirt. _Counting? Or making weird scribbly things?_ He watched her for a moment longer before jumping down from the branch, curiosity getting the better of him, and padding over. She stiffened as he peered over her shoulder, but he ignored it )she was in his cove, after all; he had a right to whatever she was making) and--oh.

She was drawing. Drawing _him_ , to be precise. He only knew what drawings were because his mother had told him when he was very young, before Estarossa was even an egg; she'd said that the reason humans were important because there were some every few years that were born to be greater than warriors or soldiers, that they thought differently and _made_ things instead of destroying them and _that_ was why they shouldn't wipe the humans out. Because while dragons had a fire-spark, some burning brighter than others, humans each had a spark of their own--either a warrior-spark or an artist-spark or something different, something rare and _special_ , and those were the people who made beautiful things and changed the world.

He'd almost forgotten about that.

Meliodas peered thoughtfully down at the small sketch of his dragon form; it was surprisingly good (not that he was an art critic by any standards or saw his reflection often, but he was fairly certain that it was accurate), even capturing the tiny white-gold designs zigzagging across his scales and the two spikes that mimicked those two untamable strands of hair when in semi-human form. The girl glanced up at him before offering him the stick. "Wanna try?"

 _..._ _Yes._ He picked up the stick shakily, trying not to touch her bare skin and just barely succeeding. A scowl crossed his face as he stared at it, trying to figure out how to hold it. Human hands made everything look so _easy,_ delicate fingers practically made for picking up and wielding equally delicate objects; his were clumsy in comparison, built the same way but covered in scales, and with retractable claws that could easily crush whatever he was holding.

Just like he'd done to the stick. _Daylight damnit,_ he thought with a frown, looking at the broken halves and dropping them to the ground. _I must not have an artist-spark, then_. His gaze landed on a sapling and he brightened. _Actually, fuck the artist-spark._

Uprooting the sapling with ease and gripping it firmly in his hands, he started dragging it across the earth. Excitement sparked in him at the sight of the line in the ground, and for once, Meliodas didn't try to suppress it. Sweeping it along the dirt and humming, he looped the line back and--ooh, that was a nice place for a dot, there, perfect--spun it around the human gleefully, dragging it backwards with a croon of delight. Glancing back at her with bright green eyes and--and something weird was happening to his face, something strangely familiar and yet _not--_ he quickly planted another dot in the ground before drawing another arcing loop, swooping the line upwards before crossing it over several other lines. After a few more spiraling loops, he dropped the sapling, satisfied with his masterpiece.

The girl stood slowly, turning on the spot and looking over his (absolutely beautiful, don't even try to tell him it's bad because it's the first thing he's ever created and it's _nice_ ) creation--and she _stepped_ on it. _What the hell?_ he thought indignantly. He didn't stomp on _her_ precious drawing, so why would she walk all over his?  _Vikings have no manners at all._

 _You know, talking would really help now--nope, she's still a human._ The resistance, however, was growing weaker and weaker, so he growled in warning. She flinched, lifting her foot, and he crooned in relief, only for her to step on it again.

 _Why you little--_ He snarled again, and she raised her foot; he crooned, and she lowered it again, but onto the other side of the line. _Yes!_ Meliodas let out a rumble of delight as she started turning, spinning, almost _dancing_ (he didn't know if humans could dance on land like dragons did in the sky, but it was strangely mesmerizing to watch her whirl across his design, almost as if she were flying) across the maze of lines he'd created, her own drawing left in the center. The silver-haired Viking girl stepped, spun, _leapt..._ and suddenly her back was to him, she was close enough for him to reach out and touch her starlight-colored hair, close enough to brush his scaly fingers with her soft-looking ones. He exhaled slowly and she stiffened, turning, her blue eyes shining down into his green.

Her hand rose, reaching out towards his face, and he, following an instinct he didn't quite understand, pulled back with a little growl. Comprehension dawned in her eyes seconds later and she turned away, hand still poised to touch him. Blinking, the sudden pull of instinct stripping away all of his usual logic, he started forward hesitantly, before pressing his head into her palm.

Almost immediately, words, images, memories that weren't his started spinning in his mind. A gasp escaped him, but he couldn't move--he was bound by her, bound _to_ her in a way that had never happened between dragon and human. Meliodas sucked in a shuddering breath as a voice--one that wasn't his, one that was shockingly familiar and sounded like home--spoke in his mind.

_Elizabeth._

_My name is Elizabeth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else noticed that when you copy-and-paste something onto the 'Chapter Text' section, it replaces all apostrophes, quotes, and ellipses with some weird sort of symbol containing the euro sign, a "tm", and an a with a grave mark over it? I write my stuff on Microsoft Word and copy it here, so this has just been bugging me.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth goes to visit her new friend and ends up dealing with some pent-up issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NIGHT FURY CULTURE THINGS PART ONE:  
> -so you've probably noticed that Meliodas swears on the stars and daylight. To a creature of the night, daylight is like the equivalent of Hell, and the stars are their guiding lights, like spirits or gods  
> -most dragons breed within their own species, but since they mainly breed when in human form, crossbreeds exist. However, the children of the Dragon King automatically take the species of their mother  
> -they can't read, mainly because they're creatures of fire and paper does not go well with flaming reptiles

Her life had only gotten better since that fateful sunset (only what, three nights ago? Time sure flew). It was surprising, considering that she was the biggest traitor to Liones since...no, wait, she _was_ the biggest traitor to Liones. _I'll just leave it at that,_ Elizabeth thought with a huff of amusement, scanning her room in the blacksmith's workshop for things to pack. _Biggest traitor in the history of Liones: Elizabeth, daughter of Bartra the Wise._

A feeling of annoyance filtered through the newly-crafted mindlink--no words, just an irritated grumbling that she could sense through the shape of the thoughts. A small smile touched her lips as she shoved a few books into her bag next to her notebook, pencil, and spyglass, before slinging it over her shoulder. _Aw, is someone impatient today?_

His response was immediate, the voice as familiar to her as her own soul. _Shut up._

A giggle escaped her and she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth; the other Vikings already thought she was insane. There was no need to help the rumors along.

Of course, they'd think a lot worse than "she's crazy" if they found out what she was doing; it was a good thing she was pretty much the only one working in the blacksmith's stall anymore. Elizabeth tilted her head back, looking proudly over her designs for the dragon's new tailfin. _He has no idea,_ she thought gleefully, running her fingers over the kite-like schematics; it was taking her longer to craft than she'd originally predicted, between dragon training and manning the forge during raids, but a couple all-nights should give her enough time to finish a prototype for him.

Elizabeth grabbed one of the sketches and kissed it, before looking into a small piece of mirrored glass her father had bought her long ago, before she'd been the girl too strange and weak to swing an axe, lift a hammer, or throw a bola. Before she'd been the village disappointment. Before she'd become so desperate to prove herself that she had become willing to risk anything--her life, others' lives. Whatever it took to be one of them. A snort escaped her--she'd been so _stupid._ A blind follower, just like every soldier in this war. _Screw being one of them._

 _That's the spirit, stupid human,_ his voice drawled from the back of her mind. She rolled her eyes, but a flicker of gratefulness burned within her for the show of (admittedly very sarcastic) support. Picking up the glass, she stared into it and lifted her chin.

"You are a genius," she told herself firmly, without blinking. "You're making history. You'll be the best of them all someday."

And then she set off to go see her draconic best (and only) friend.

* * *

 

"What the fuck are those."

Elizabeth pursed her lips at the disinterested look on Meliodas's face; he merely blinked at her, green eyes showing no sign of sarcasm (huh, that was rare). "These," she informed him, holding one out, "are _books._ You know, paper, ink, symbols that equal words?"

His eyes brightened slightly. _So that's why humans post those weird papers with the spiky things on them. I_ told _Zeldris that they weren't mating rituals! Hah, he's going to be so mad--_

"I can _hear_ you," she said pointedly, furrowing her brow. _Zeldris...I think he mentioned them before back when we couldn't figure out how to close the mindlink._ Those first three days had been a little bit traumatizing; the two of them had both been panicking and subconsciously slipping into each other's thoughts (she'd freaked Denzel out by knocking over a table when Meliodas's thoughts--something along the lines of _I'M A TRAITOR TO EVERYONE I KNOW OH STARS OH FUCK--_ had suddenly punched into her head in the middle of dragon training). It was a point of pride for her that she was better at closing off her thoughts from the mindlink than the feared, infamous Night Fury (he was hilariously disgruntled about it). "Who's Zeldris?"

"None of your business," he snapped immediately, stiffening and turning away, his wings flaring as the tiny spikes on his back bristled. Elizabeth hid a grin as she noticed the dusting of red across his face. _An old fling?_ she inquired mischievously through the link.

The blond Night Fury flattened his ear-flaps, whirling around to face her with bright red cheeks and a horrified look. _EW. No, no, no, no. Get your disgustingness out of my head RIGHT NOW, human, or I swear--_

 _Yeah, yeah. "_ I have a name, you know," she grumbled, tapping her toes against the dirt impatiently. "Come on, tell me~"

"No."

A huff escaped her and she tossed her head imperiously. _Guess I'll have to use my special trump card after all. "_ I'll tell you a secret if you tell me who he is."

He flopped onto the ground with a snort, raising emerald green eyes to hers, derision gleaming in them. "Like what? Your mate's name? Your deepest fear--actually, do tell, I'd love the opportunity to use it against you."

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "How, exactly? You can't get out of the cove."

A flicker of anger crossed with...grief? Was flying that much of a loss to him? Guilt pulsed within her, violently demanding reparations, but she pushed it down. _You will fly again, I promise you that--_ crossed his face. "Low blow, Elizabeth."

"So you do know my name!" she chirped, determined to push past her misstep. Great inventors--admittedly, she only knew of one or two through reading foreign works--never gave up after the first prototype failed; that was why they were great. It was persistence, genius, and pure reckless curiosity that made a person great, and Elizabeth was fairly sure she had those in spades, especially the last one. "And I don't have a boyfriend." At his look of confusion, she raised a hand to hide her smile. "A mate," she amended, and comprehension dawned on his face _It's funny, seeing how little we know about each other's worlds._ A realization struck her and she blinked. _Wait...he didn't know what runes are. Does that mean he can't read?_

It made sense, now that she thought about it. Dragons were creatures of fire, and books were papery, easily-burned-and-ruined objects. It was how they lost most of their already sparse collection and why the majority of stories in Liones were passed down orally. Still, he just seemed so normal (even while sporting wings, claws, a tail, and patches of scales on his back and around his eyes) that she'd never imagined that he wouldn't know something that was such a staple of her own life.

It only made her more determined to connect with him (teaching him to read was as good a way as any, right? That and honesty--the brutal, teasing kind she was fond of). "And," she went on, crouching next to him; he glanced over at her suspiciously, but didn't speak. "My greatest fear...well, it's disappointing him. My dad, that is." A grimace crossed her face. "I do it enough that you'd think it wouldn't bother me, but something about the look in his eyes--he's not _angry_ anymore. He's just cold and empty and it's like he's given up on me." A sudden spark of anger (one that she hadn't known existed) ignited into a fiery ball of pitch-black flame within her.

"And it's not _fair,"_ she burst out viciously, standing up. "I didn't _ask_ to have these ideas in my head, I didn't ask to be the runt or the idiot or the _one daughter that doesn't fit his perfect fucking vision!_ Why am I the one getting in trouble for thinking differently? Just because I can't fucking _split a rock_ by slamming my head into it, just because I can't lift a weapon--gods _know_ I wish I could, gods know I've always wanted to be one of them. But no one expects anything but failure from a girl with stick arms and a spine that someone could fucking break by stepping on it. My own father won't even _look_ at me, and when he does it's always like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich!" Elizabeth adopted a gruff voice. "Excuse me, barmaid! I think yeh brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra-large _boy_ with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side! This here--this is a girl, and she's a talkin' _fishbone!"_ She knotted her fingers into her hair and screamed, more and more words pouring out of her mouth as her voice wore raw, born of years of being the black sheep of the family, the least impressive daughter, the weakest link.

_A runt._

_A fool._

_Not one of us._

_Not good enough._

_She'll never amount to anything at all._

_She's too weak to be a proper Viking._

_Keep her in the forge, out of the way of those destined for greatness--like perfect fucking Veronica, like brilliant Margaret, like future fucking Shieldmaiden Diane._

_Elizabeth will always be a hiccup, a mistake._

She screamed her voice raw, throwing rocks and dirt into the water, the cruel words bouncing off of the sides of the cove, a burning resentment she hadn't realized was even there until a few moments--minutes--hours?--ago pouring out of her. The sun was far lower in the sky when she finished, dropping to her knees by the edge of the lake with a huff, realizing belatedly that there were tears running down her cheeks. Meliodas hadn't moved throughout her sudden outburst, a silent onlooker, his green eyes shadowed by his wild bangs. _He probably thinks I'm an idiot,_ she thought, scrubbing angrily at her cheeks. How could she have cried in front of _him?_ Even she, a girl with no social skills, knew better than to shove your burning issues onto someone else right off the bat. Why couldn't she have just said something innocuous like spiders or trolls? "I just wanted to be one of them," she mumbled hoarsely, weakly, trying to sum up what she had just shouted to the clouds in a few futile words. Not that he would understand, of course; she couldn't imagine Meliodas, who seemed so proud of his strength, who was not just _a_ Night Fury but _the_ Night Fury, the one who everyone feared the most, ever being scared to disappoint someone, much less worrying about whether he fit in with the other dragons.

Which was why she was very surprised when he scooted towards her hesitantly, settling by her side with a soft, surprisingly soothing humming noise. Elizabeth glanced sideways at him, feeling his emerald eyes burn into her face; the pupils were dilated--something she had come to recognize as a sign of contentedness or happiness. The feeling coming off of him wasn't quite either of those things, though; it felt like commiseration, sympathy...no, _empathy._ The humming stopped for a moment and he opened his mouth, teeth sliding into his gums and then out again as he seemed to search for words, a _shhhnk_ sound following the tiny-yet-fascinating action. She couldn't bring herself to wonder at it, though, braced for an insult.

 _"I'_ _m glad you aren't."_ Meliodas's statement echoed both in the air and through the mindlink, calm and surprisingly sincere. _"_ _Because then I would be dead and we'd both still be alone."_

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment (gods, she must look so _stupid_ now; her face always got all blotchy when she cried and she _hated_ it), before rubbing at her eyes with a halting, watery chuckle. "What are you saying?"

The dragon huffed and shook himself briskly, black wings flaring out. "I'm saying that maybe being friends with a human isn't _entirely_ bad. It's certainly more interesting than burning the same boring village to the ground every night. You're still an idiot, though," he added hastily, face turning brilliant red. "And I'm still going to gnaw your ankles off if you try anything--"

A smile tugged at her lips and a laugh bubbled out of her despite everything. "Oh, yes, you're very intimidating and stoic."

"Shut up."

* * *

 

"So," Elizabeth inquired several hours later, halfway through teaching Meliodas to read the Norse alphabet (he's a remarkably fast learner; already poring over a few simpler books as if he'll somehow become a fantastic reader by the end of the night), "who's Zeldris?"

She dodged the book he threw at her seconds later, shaking with laughter.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meliodas tries not to let the human's words effect him. It doesn't work out, but he can't really complain, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NIGHT FURY CULTURE FACTS PART TWO:  
> -Dragons, despite having warm blood due to their internal fire, still have colder blood than humans. They thus love warmth and it can make them sluggish and happy like cats.  
> -A sun-leap is six hours. A sun-shift is twelve, and anything beyond that falls under night. The setting of the sun marks a new day for them  
> -Yes, dragons are vain. Come on, with such pretty scales and bodies, its almost impossible that they wouldn't be

Meliodas was slightly horrified by the fact that the human's visits had become _routine_ , by the realization that he waited for her to return every day like a--a tame _pet_ , by the fact that her voice in his head had come to feel as natural as his own thoughts. _You're not any less impressive or deadly for it,_ he assured himself fiercely, sitting on a rocky outcropping (certainly not _waiting_ for her, oh no, it was just that this place had the best lighting for him to read the book she'd lent him) and flipping lazily through pages. _You're just...learning from her so that you can use it against her tribe later! And that asshole father of hers..._ A growl ripped through him at the thought of the man that had reduced ~~his best and only friend~~ his human ally, who was really quite strong-willed despite her fragile appearance, into a screaming mess of tears and rage. _There should be a rule that shitty people--dragons, humans, whatever--should not be allowed to be parents._ He shook himself briskly a moment afterwards. _Ugh. If you sympathize with her any more, you'll be letting her ride on your back next._ A huff of laughter came from his lips at that, and he lashed his tail with amusement. As if he'd ever let a human fly with him, no matter how interesting or brilliant.

A scuffling noise came from the entrance and Meliodas instinctively sat up, letting out a yelp as his book went clattering to the ground. His ear-flaps pricked up as he stared at the small split in the rocks that Elizabeth normally walked through. _Is she here?_ A squirrel skittered out and he flopped back onto the rock with a grumble. _Of course not._

Then the realization of what he'd just done hit him, and the Night Fury groaned, covering his face with his hands. _What the_ fuck-- He shook his head, brushing against the mindlink with a hiss. _You've ruined me, human._

Her response, the shape of the words and the subtle melody they played in his head, was brilliantly amused. _Did you hit the twist ending of the book yet?_

 _Don't you_ dare _spoil it or I'll eat your face._ He rolled over onto his stomach, glaring down at the book. Unlike Elizabeth, who blazed through books like they were nothing, devoured them like they were more nourishing than the greatest banquet, he was a slow reader, unable to read for more than a sixth of a sun-leap (something Elizabeth told him was about an hour for humans--very impressive for someone, she said, who'd only learned to read about a week ago). It was _irritating--_ here he was, quite clearly stronger and faster and far better at navigating the world than she was, but this was the one thing (he knew of) that he couldn't best her at. _This is all your fault. Where are you?_

 _Sorry I'm late; I've been working on a special project._ He could picture her mischievous smile. _I'll be there in a few minutes._

_What's the project?_

_A secret, that's what._ Her thoughts had taken a teasing tone that he wasn't sure what to do with. He settled for a bored huff, sitting up and planting his hands on the rock, his tail wrapping around his legs as he glared in the squirrel's direction. Fire built behind his closed jaw and he grinned before shooting off a blast that charred the rock, soot marking his unleashed attack. It had been a _weak_ blast, of course, no need to ruin their--no, his, it was his, it wasn't hers, _stop thinking like that--_ cove just because he couldn't handle his own power.

Still, blasting something had felt good; he hadn't had an excuse to use his fire other than to keep warm in what, two weeks? Fighting was in a dragon's nature, and he was no different. The use of their fire-spark wasn't something like a sword or an axe for Vikings; it was a part of them, one inextricable from the other. _Maybe I should try target practice on Elizabeth. Surprise target practice._ He glanced back at the narrow passage, perked ear-flaps flattening as he exhaled in disappointment. _If she ever gets here--no,_ stop _thinking that,_ stop. Meliodas shuddered with a derisive noise, flattening himself to the rock. _What is_ wrong _with you? You're going from dangerous to a freaking_ pet, _what the hell._

 _Or maybe you're just lonely,_ a voice that wasn't Elizabeth's whispered in the back on his mind, _and you want to spend time with your only friend._

Friends? Well, maybe he _had_ said that, but that didn't mean they actually were _friends_ , right? _We can't be. We're enemies, and this is a war zone and she forcibly maimed me--_

 _And you're really good at arguing with yourself,_ his subconscious hissed, and Meliodas stiffened indignantly, smacking his tail loudly against the rock and preparing a retort before blinking. _I'm literally having an argument with myself. That idiot human better get here before I go insane._

"Meliodas? You there?"

Something within him brightened, his ear-flaps pricking up instinctively in response as he peered over the edge of the rock. Elizabeth grinned up at him, hefting a rucksack full of--fish, _yes, thank the stars, it's about TIME--_ and another, smaller bag. "Hope you didn't miss me too much."

"Miss you? Hah," he snorted, flaring his remaining tailfin and glancing away. "I'm only in this relationship for the food." And maybe the interesting human who was absolutely nothing like the rest of her kind, but mostly food.

"Aw, you love me really." She set down the rucksack. "But you're gonna have to come down here to eat; I'm not bringing this up to you."

 _Love?_ A scoff escaped him as he spread his wings and glided to the ground next to her. Dragons didn't _do_ love. They took mates based on the strongest of their race and most often separated once the young hatched (at least in his father's "kingdom"). His mother had just been unlucky enough to encounter the Dragon King while in semi-human form, and now he and his siblings (lucky assholes, still flying through the sky and raiding and fighting while he was stuck here, reading books and bickering with a ~~very pretty~~ human girl) were...well, alive, if not exactly _safe_. "You're incredibly lazy," he informed her, reaching for a fish.

He never even got to touch one, instead bowled over by Elizabeth as she tackled him right into the lake. Meliodas let out a yelp of shock as she slammed him, laughing, into the water, plunging in next to him. The chill didn't bother him so much like this, but he shuddered anyway, out of surprise more than anything else. _How did she get the drop on me? And why in the world would she tackle me into a_ lake? He flicked his tail, pushing himself to the surface and glaring at her (trying desperately not to notice that she looked very, very pretty like that, her hair a silver curtain, cheeks flushed from the cold water). "What in the--"

"Bathtime," she informed him with a grin, tossing him a bar of _something;_ he caught it clumsily, letting out a hiss of surprise as it nearly slipped through his claws. "That's soap; you use it to clean yourself. Your scales were getting all dusty and your hair looks like trash. And you smell like fish."

"I most certainly DO NOT," he hissed, feeling his cheeks heat up despite himself. Meliodas wasn't even sure why he was so mortified; most dragons were vain, but he'd been one of the few exceptions to the rule. When you were the strongest of your kind and under the control of the Dragon King, no one was really concerned with appearances so long as you delivered results. So why was one small comment about his hair--something that he hadn't even known he'd had _that much of_ before these two weeks began--and scales making him feel so...inadequate? Was this vanity? Or (not, it couldn't be) _insecurity_ , of all things? _I don't like this,_ he decided, narrowing his eyes at Elizabeth, who beamed. _Stop making me feel these stupid things, damnit._

Still, he found himself hesitantly rubbing the soap over his arms, eyes widening as he watched dirt and ash flake off into the water. _Wait, so all of that was...no way._ He scowled at his scales, wondering just how much earth was caked onto them. _Ew. Maybe I did need a small wash--but the idiot could've just mentioned it in passing. Damn human--"_

Water suddenly crashed over him and he let out an involuntary shriek of shock, floundering for a moment, before scowling at a mischievous-looking Elizabeth. _"_ _Oh, you are IN FOR IT,"_ he threatened both through the mindlink and verbally, lashing his tail and sending up a spray of water that knocked her over and sent her sputtering into the shallows, only for her to lunge for him, bowling him over. Meliodas wrestled her off with a gasp and held her beneath the water, grinning. _I've got you now--"_

 _Not so fast!_ she shot back through the link, and suddenly he was falling back into the shallows, lashing his tail wildly as he tried to regain his balance; Elizabeth burst through the surface with a laugh that rang like a bell in the afternoon air. Meliodas sat up and tried unsuccessfully to scowl at her, flicking a few droplets of water at her face. The human grinned before splashing him again, leading to another full-on water war, the soap sinking to the bottom of the lake, forgotten.

* * *

 

"You know," Elizabeth remarked as they sat around a small fire he'd sparked, the surprisingly warm Liones sunlight making Meliodas feel sleepy and content, as if he were bathing in molten gold, soaking up every drop of sunshine, "that was surprisingly effective."

"Mmm." He didn't have the energy to really respond with anything else right now; he was too busy curling around the fire, enjoying the warmth it provided while admiring the way his newly-polished scales shone in the afternoon light. _Perhaps I'm less of an exception to the vanity rule than I thought,_ he admitted to himself, tugging proudly on a lock of drying bright-yellow hair. He hadn't realized quite how much dirt had been caked onto his body until it had all washed off, and he felt somewhat refreshed now (especially after devouring that rucksack of fish. _Yum)_.

"Oh!" He lifted his head drowsily as Elizabeth rummaged through her pack, before pulling out...clothing? _Human_ clothing? Eyeing it warily, he leaned forward to inspect it as Elizabeth held it out to him, smiling. "I thought you might want something other than rags to wear, especially with how cold it's going to start getting. You know, being a reptile and all that."

"I'm warm-blooded," he protested, feeling a bit wounded. "And we breathe fire, you know; the cold isn't a problem." He picked at the green tunic and white pants hesitantly; they didn't _look_ bad (not that he was by any means a good judge of fashion, having only recently learned that such a thing existed), but some part of him--the part least touched by the stupid human girl, the part that insisted that he was only here because of her and that all of this was a conspiracy to kill him--rebelled against the thought of wearing those.

"Come on, please?"she pleaded. "I'd feel better knowing you had _something."_ She held them up hopefully, but he could sense the doubts flickering in her mind as she offered them.

Was that the insecurity thing again? _I_ hate _that,_ he decided, reaching out and snatching them up (and hoping that his scales and bangs would hide the fact that his cheeks were probably bright pink). "...Stupid human."

Meliodas didn't look up, but he could _hear_ the laughter in her voice as she answered. "Stubborn dragon."


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth doesn't quite know what to do when an ancient dragon rite takes hold of Meliodas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see two people who are meant for each other begin to feel the pull of something more.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see when she visited the cove a day after their water war (which she’d _totally_ won, regardless of what Meliodas grumbled under his breath about cheating), but a very, _very_ restless Night Fury tapping his tailfin on the rocks that he sunbathed on was _definitely_ not it. Normally, Meliodas was catlike and--well, not lazy, but languid, with the stillness and electrifying aura of a predator surrounding even his slower movements. His energy was normally a placid hum that could snap to fiery life at any time, but today it felt...different. Bright and vibrant and wild, and when she brushed against his mind, all she could feel was some sort of tensed-up war against himself.

“Um,” she said after a long moment of staring at him, lifting a sack of fish. “Hungry?”

 _No--not--really_ , came the reply, each word seemingly ground out between clenched teeth. Elizabeth watched his tail flick back and forth wildly, noting that his hands were clamped over his ear-flaps. _Is there some kind of anti-dragon frequency? Or...no, that’s all I can think of_. “Well, that’s a first,” she muttered, setting the sack down and clambering up onto the rocky outcropping. The Night Fury stiffened, a hiss escaping him as he tucked his wings more tightly into his back. _Well, that’s certainly not normal_.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” she muttered. “You know, if you can tell me, I can help. Why are you…” Elizabeth made a gesture that she hoped conveyed the utter weirdness of their current situation. “Like _this_?”

Meliodas shot her a glare, and she recoiled. _What the f—_ “Your pupils,” she managed, watching them dilate and contract rapidly. Her shock started to drain away, replaced with concern and—fear? _Am I_ scared _of his death_? It _did_ make sense on a certain level (he was her first real friend in almost a decade, and the only one who she knew—regardless of what he said—who would be there for her), but the fact that she’d grown so attached to her natural enemies…well, it only reinforced what she was coming to believe: dragons and Vikings _could_ achieve peace, through something as simple as listening and understanding. “Now you can’t possibly tell me that nothing is wrong,” she informed him sharply.

“I could, too,” he muttered mutinously.

 _Of all the stubborn, idiotic, asinine—gods grant me patience. I will smack this dragon upside the head_. “But I wouldn’t believe you at all,” she pointed out, scooching closer. “So…”

He huffed, but a small grin touched Elizabeth’s lips as he spoke in the unmistakable tones of a man defeated. “Moondance.” A shudder of energy seemed to run through him as he said it, the silvery tones of the word hanging in the air.

“What—”

“Ancient dragon rite,” he mumbled, so low that she had to lean in to hear him. “First full moon of the season, there’s a pull to…” He shook his head and growled something. “There’s no human word for it. But the Dragon King’s control—it suppresses the pull, hides the instinct. I haven’t felt it so strong in…in _ever_.”

“Give in, then,” Elizabeth urged; he gave her a sharp look and she raised her hands placatingly. “Look, denying it is evidently hurting you. But, if you were to give into the—the Moondance—it wouldn’t hurt anymore, right?”

“I—can’t— _fly_ ,” he hissed, rounding on her, green eyes slits of rage…no, not rage. This was different, this was more internalized, like broken glass tearing up his insides. It was—was _weakness_. Self-loathing (she’d seen it too often in the mirror to mistake it for anything else). “How am I supposed to dance without—”

“You have legs, don’t you?” She tapped his ankle and he jerked back at her touch, eyes widening. A small smile touched her lips as she tilted her head at him, switching to the mindlink. _Come on, stubborn dragon. Just give in_.

Meliodas shuddered, a full-body shudder that made the tiny spines on his back shiver and his wings quake, before relaxing and opening his eyes, blinking at her. Her breath caught in her chest at his eyes, green tinted with silver—the Moondance’s effect? —and she gazed at him in awe (and a little bit of fear; this was a side of him she had never seen, a side that gave into the deepest of instincts). He leapt from the boulder and she gasped, whirling to look at him as his body shivered again, his eyes closed as he seemed to lie in a trance—and then he _moved_.

Spinning, whirling, a cyclone of deadly grace and predatory beauty, Elizabeth watched the dragon, mesmerized by him. The expression on his face, caught by her sharp eyes between leaps and twirls, was one of pure bliss, a sort of euphoria she’d almost thought him incapable of. The girl slowly took her notebook out of her vest, flipping to an open page as he stomped his foot on the ground to an unheard beat, throwing his head back and humming to a music she couldn’t reach. Pencil touched paper, and she moved it slowly, trying to capture the essence of this electrifyingly exquisite being, hypnotized by him.

A laugh bubbled out of his throat and she froze, eyes widening as the shining sound filled the air. It was like nothing she’d ever heard, and she was fairly certain that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was a dragon, and more to do with the fact that it was the first true, unguarded laughter she’d heard from him. Her pencil moved faster unbidden, lines spiraling across the page even as he tossed his head back, a brilliant smile lighting up his face.

Charcoal brought the dragon in front of her to glorious life on the page, but it felt…pale. Lifeless. Empty, especially when she actually _looked_ at him, all shining green eyes beneath blond bangs and night-black scales on fair skin, a beautiful contrast that made her blood light up in her veins with something she didn’t recognize. She set the drawing down and gazed at it before setting it aside with a small sigh. _There’s no way it could possibly compare,_ she admitted to herself, flipping it shut. Curiosity pounded at her after a moment of watching him, and she hesitantly brushed against the mindlink.

 _Music_. Wild music that made her itch to move and spin and laugh like the rest of the world didn’t exist, filling his thoughts like the most potent of drugs. Elizabeth forced herself to withdraw with a gasp, limbs shaking as she did so. It reminded her of stories her eldest sister had told her when she was small, about faeries and their revels, about how a human could join them, but without a token from their “faerie consort”, they’d dance until they dropped dead. The pulse of the Moondance felt like that sort of energy, throbbing and burning and shining through every pore of those who heard it. Falling into it would be like falling into fire—deadly and mesmerizing, incandescent and world-changing.

_“Elizabeth~”_

She glanced up to see that Meliodas had scaled the rocks while she’d been thinking, his green eyes shining as he blinked at her, extending a hand with a scintillating smile. “Dance with me?”

_Falling into fire._

_Dance until you die._

_Mesmerizing._

_World-changing._

It was a bad decision.

It was very possibly the worst decision she’d ever have to make.

It was _irresistible_.

Elizabeth took his hand, eyes widening as the touch sent a shock through her. The music hummed in her veins, pulsing in his blood and weaving around hers, the promise of utter freedom tantalizingly bright. She itched to dance, to whirl and spin like a “princess” never could, with no need for anything but the fire of the Moondance and the wide-open sky. The high of the music was like a thunderstorm in her veins, rapid and inexorable in its approach, and she felt a giggle escape her as it crashed over her like a wave, filling her with music.

Meliodas beamed at her before twirling her slowly. As soon as her feet began to move, she felt herself fall, plummeting into the flames with an exhilarated laugh. He spun her, faster and faster, and she rose onto her toes as she twirled, feeling the fire of the Moondance’s pull burn through her as he scooped her up with a hum that ran through his whole body (she marveled, somewhere in the back of her mind, at the muscle beneath his deceptively small build, coiled iron beneath rough scales and fair skin that was beginning to be kissed by the sun) and sprang from the rock, wings spreading as he glided with her in his arms, skidding to a halt that was somehow clumsy and graceful at the same time. A whoop of delight came from her lips as he pulled her from his arms, whirling her in a circle as the beat of the wild music hummed through their blood. She could feel his consciousness merging with hers as they lost themselves in the music, until she could not tell whose wings snapped to the beat or whose delicate hands clapped together as it reached a crescendo.

Traitors to their kind, bound together inextricably, Elizabeth knew full well that if anyone ever found out about this, they’d both be dead.

But for now, she danced with a dragon and laughed with him, their voices merging and falling like stardust through the sky.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To dragons, the gift of flight is a sacred thing. To have it returned after it's been brutally ripped away--well, that's nothing short of a miracle.  
> Except that this is a miracle created by human hands and given to a dragon.  
> ...close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys.  
> This is it.  
> The first big turning point.

It was on days like this that Meliodas resented Elizabeth the most. Days when the sky seemed just too tantalizing, when the clouds seemed soft as the fur of a rabbit, when the sunlight seemed to call, the promise of night’s shadowed freedom just a sun-shift away. His wings and remaining fin ached to leap into the air, but the absence of his left tailfin chained him to the ground.

He flopped to the ground with a growl, eyeing the tauntingly beautiful skyscape gloomily, tapping his tail on the ground impatiently as he cast a glance towards the entrance, before huffing in annoyance. _She’s always late._ Flipping onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows, he peered intently across the lake, up at the rock where he’d…well, he wasn’t sure _what_ he’d done. The Moondance had taken over, prompting to the surface his deepest desires and a kind of happiness he hadn’t felt in years, and all he’d known was that he wanted to share it with Elizabeth—Elizabeth, who had been able to hear the irresistible pull of the Moondance through him, who had danced until the sun was long gone and who had moved with such grace that shivers of _something_ had run through him. And when the magic exhausted itself and they fell to the ground, spent but exhilarated, the moon high in the sky, he’d turned to look at her and had been spellbound utterly—by a _human_. He’d been captivated by the face of a Viking, of all people (a Viking with silver hair like moonlight given physical form and blue eyes that shone like the brightest of skies, a Viking with delicate limbs that hid so much strength and energy and an inner fire that burned brighter than any he’d ever seen, all of this in a _human girl--)._ It was ridiculous, impossible, and yet here he was, mentally waxing eloquent about a stupid, naturally cowardly Viking. Except she wasn’t stupid or cowardly; no, she was frighteningly intelligent and so brave that it drove him out of his mind.

 _…I really do have to get out of here_ , he thought, burying his face in his hands with a groan. Any closer to her and he might end up being overwhelmed by these emotions instead of being able to nip them in the bud or keep them firmly in the realm of friendship. Except—as was growing to be an even greater issue—he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave anymore, not when he was finally free of his father’s reach and had someone—however _irritating_ and _mind-bogglingly reckless_ —who actually considered him more than means to an end, who thought of his as a…a _friend_. Not even on days when the sky was so blue that it hurt him not to be flying through it.

That hurt to admit.

“Hey!” The Night Fury let out a yelp of shock as she popped up behind him, whipping around and springing backwards with a hiss, wings raised in response to the “threat”. _What the—how—_ He dropped his wings and scowled at her; she was giggling into her hand, blue eyes mischievous. _Don’t humans know better than to sneak up on what is LITERALLY the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself?_ “What is _wrong_ with you?” he accused. “You’re lucky I didn’t start blasting first and asking questions later!”

Elizabeth grinned at him, dropping a rucksack of fish (that was another perk of being here: free, fresh food every single day. No more scrounging for scraps the Dragon King threw them, no more squabbling over the tail of a tiny herring, and certainly no more giving up his share for his idiot brothers). There was a slightly larger bag than normal slung over her back, he noticed, narrowing his eyes at it thoughtfully. “I managed to steal a good selection today,” she informed him, kicking it over; the fish slapped out of the basket with a wet sound, glistening in all their delicious-smelling glory. She made a face at the raw fish and he grinned at her evident disgust, padding closer as she muttered, “That’s disgusting.”

With another wary look at her bag (he could smell metal and leather inside it, but what kind of…whatever stupid things humans made need both leather and metal?), he crouched and snapped one up, closing his eyes as the flavor sang over his tongue before swallowing it. “There’s some Icelandic cod—” Yep, he found one; cod wasn’t his favorite, but it ranked fairly high on the list. “Some salmon,” she added, and yes, there it was, one of his absolute _favorites_ ; he bit into one gleefully and swallowed, snapping it up in two bites. “And a whole smoked eel.” _Wait, did she say—_

There it was, the snakelike little _devil_ in all its slimy horrible poisonousness; Meliodas let out a shriek as his claws grazed it, scuttling backwards as an instinctive terror that ran bone-deep shot through him. Plasma burned in his throat as he lashed his tail wildly, stumbling away from it with a shiver of fear. Elizabeth darted in front of him, hands raised placatingly and soothing him with quick words as he hissed and shrieked in animalistic fear, his thoughts a mess of _evilevilevilenemypoisondeathgetitawaygetitawayGETITAWAY_. He arched his back, about to shift into full dragon form and fly to the opposite side of the cove when she grabbed it and shoved it away. The storm of fear subsided and he rose to his full height (of just _five freaking feet_ ; he was _the_ Night Fury and he was still this tiny, it wasn’t _fair_ ) and glared at her. “Don’t—”

“Oh my gods—”

“—you—”

“—you’re scared—”

“—dare—”

“Of _eels_ ,” she finished delightedly. Meliodas glared at her, hoping that she could sense his complete and utter annoyance with the fact that she was dwelling on something as foolish as a perfectly logical fear of the slimy bastards. It only increased when she added, “What an _eelectrifying_ discovery.”

He flattened his ear-flaps at her and gave her the most unimpressed look he possibly could. _Why_ , he demanded through the mindlink, _would you_ possibly _think that was a good idea?_

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean you any eel will,” she teased. A growl of annoyance escaped him. _Idiot humans and their stupid senses of humor,_ he grumbled, dropping moodily to the ground and snatching up another fish. _First she startles me and now she tries to poison me? Maybe I shouldn’t be so sure that she isn’t trying to kill me after all._ He bit into another and tossed it back with a hum, chewing a couple times before swallowing with a sigh, munching systematically through the pile. He could _hear_ her moving behind him, he wasn’t an _idiot_ , but the fish were far more pressing an issue (they’d rot if they weren’t put to use, and who better to use them than he?) and he (cue shudders) _trusted_ her. More than he trusted a lot of his fellow dragons.

He stiffened as her hands grasped his tail, a low growl coming from his throat as his hackles instinctively rose. “It’s okay,” Elizabeth’s voice soothed him, and he was slightly annoyed with how relaxed he felt upon hearing her speak. “Don’t worry. I’m trying to help.”

 _I think you’ve helped plenty,_ he muttered, but he dragged the rucksack closer to him, sticking his head into it and breathing in the delicious scent. He could hear her laughter from behind him as the weight on his tail increased somewhat, bright and clear and lovelier than anything he’d ever heard, and he forced himself to ignore it, biting down his smile as he snatched up a fish that was left in the bag and chewing it slowly. Humans are weird, he thought, pricking his ear-flaps in response to her exclamation of delight and—

Oh.

 _No way_. Meliodas knocked the basket off his head, shifting experimentally, shifting his tail slightly to see if he was just imagining things. He probably was; what his body told him had happened was completely impossible. Dragons didn’t just _regrow_ missing appendages any more than humans did; he’d seen enough battle-scarred warriors of both races to know that much, at least.

Except it _had_ , somehow. His jaw dropped, wings falling to his sides as he felt muscle rub up against something stiff that felt too familiar to be anything else. Somehow, the stars had blessed him with this miracle of miracles—and they’d given him back the sky.

He opened his wings slowly, shifting fluidly from human to dragon, crouching. A voice buzzed in his ears as he did so—one who he couldn’t match a face to, a flicker of silver and blue entering his mind before vanishing as he shot into the air, a shriek of triumph tearing from his throat as he streaked upwards into the air. A shrill cry filled his ears and he flattened them with a growl, turning to spiral higher—and dipping towards the ground instead. _What? No, no—why?_ A scream of frustration escaped him as the ground raced closer; why would the stars give this back to him only to taint it, to rip it away at the last second, to—

He felt leather brush against his scales and suddenly he was high above the cove, arcing over the cliffs, the open sea at his back and the sun on his wings. He felt the other fin shift— _soft skin calloused hands reckless courage fire rising who is **she**_ —against his will, someone ( _a human, silver hair blue eyes he can almost remember almost so CLOSE_ ) shouting “It’s working!” gleefully into the wind as the fin shifted and he dove, gliding over the lake. A flicker of silver caught at the edges of his vision and Meliodas sucked in a breath, memories suddenly pulsing through his mind, the call of the sky taking a backseat to the sudden rush of _Elizabeth Elizabeth Elizabeth how could I **forget**_ pounding through his mind. Glancing back, he saw her clinging to his tail, holding open a false tailfin of brown leather and metal (what an idiotic human, why would she do that, she was going to DIE at this rate and he did not want to have to ~~mourn for her yet~~ deal with that). _YOU UTTER **IMBECILE**_ , he roared into her mind, and he felt her stiffen against his tail. _WHY IN THE **STARS** WOULD YOU—_

 ** _LOOK OUT!_** Her voice rang in his head with a clang like metal, a thousand times louder than his own scolding and ringing with such alarm that he looked forward and shrieked in shock; the cove’s walls were fast approaching, too tight a turn for him to make like this and there was _no way_ Elizabeth would possibly be able to shift it fast enough; they would crash and end up hurt ~~and this would be~~ ~~all his fault~~ \--

She shifted it, moved it just in time for them to loop around the rock together and go tumbling into the water, Meliodas shifting quickly back to human and swimming to the surface, glaring at her. “What the _fuck_!” he shouted at her as she broke the surface, enraged (his heart was pounding, his hands shaking from more than adrenaline, from an emotion he swore he’d never feel for another being, from complete and utter all-consuming _fear_ ). “Why didn’t you _tell_ me? You could’ve _died_! You could’ve _fallen off_ and then I would’ve had to go and _hunt down_ your sorry ass so I could drag what was left back to your village! Did none of that occur to you? And why are you _smiling_?”

Elizabeth’s shoulders were shaking, but a grin was practically splitting her face, lighting it up like the music had during the Moondance. Meliodas stiffened as she spoke, her voice soft and mesmerized.

“…I can see now why you loved it so much.” Her eyes lit up, blue and blazing as she swam to him, grabbing his hands in hers eagerly (he felt a jolt of something like electricity run through her and pushed it down as quickly as possible). “That was _insane_ , that was the most _amazing_ experience of my life, that—”

“Doesn’t answer my _question_ ,” he snapped, praying that enough anger would make his fear go away. “Why would you go and do something like that?”

Her grin shrunk to a smile (oh no, she was about to say something so completely sincere and Elizabeth-like that it would make him feel those annoying little lightning bolts again, he just knew it) and she squeezed his hands tightly. “I took all that away from you,” she told him. “And now I’m giving it back. I won’t stop until you can fly properly again, either.” _And there it is_. He could feel the heat rushing to his face and broke her grip quickly, swimming to the shallows and climbing out with a brisk shake _. I almost forgot her when I was flying_. The realization shook him to the core and he shivered again. _I could’ve_ killed _her._

_I won’t let that happen again._

“Then you’d better be ready to make a saddle, too,” he muttered, hearing Elizabeth’s footsteps behind him and turning to look her in the eyes. _This is the one way I can atone. The one way I can make sure that I never forget her or leave her behind. Even if it’ll cost me my place as a dragon prince, as a soldier, as a “real” dragon… I think I already proved that I’m not one of them anyway._ Meliodas stared into those blue, blue eyes and extended a hand. “Because I’m going to need your…your h-help.” He stumbled over the word, hating to admit it, hating to swallow his pride even if it was necessary.

It was worth it, though, to see her eyes light up so incandescently as she gripped his scale-covered hand without hesitation. “Partners?”

“Partners,” he replied, and added, “but you’re still a stupid human.”

Elizabeth laughed. “And you’re still a stubborn dragon."

They shared a smile, and Meliodas felt a flicker of something warm that overrode his wounded pride. He found that he didn't mind it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meliodas has started to realize that he has F E E L I N G S


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth tries a thousand different prototypes, but only one sticks. Story of her life, she supposes, but it feels so much better to be doing it for someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared for a long one, guys! Also, a quote I use in here actually comes from an absolutely heartwrenching trilogy, "The Infernal Devices." See if you can find it!

Elizabeth braided her damp hair quickly as she entered the arena, grimacing as Denzel passed her a bucket of water along with a glare. _Great. I didn't even get the chance to throw the eel away._ She glanced around at the others; their original class had been split up into the "dregs" and the "elites" (she was placed in the elites based off of her parentage, something she had called bullshit on but hadn't been able to overturn. Now she had no viable excuse for being horrible at this). It now consisted of Diane, who was still pissed at her after the Nadder debacle--which, admittedly, had been somewhat her fault, but she had bigger issues to deal with than her old friend's annoyance (like the fact that Meliodas had pretty much _said_ that she could ride on his back, and without any prompting at all, too. She had no idea what was going through that dragon's head, but she wasn't complaining)--Arthur, a boy who had washed up on their shores some fifteen years ago, a runt like her who had actually been thrown out into the ocean by his tribe; Gowther, who despite his small frame and apparent weakness was actually quite good at strategy and practically bursting with ingenuity; and Elaine, a tiny girl who'd they'd found in the woods living wild about a decade ago and who made up for her diminutive size with enough spunk to _physically lift herself off the ground and levitate._ Apparently, she'd been cast out of her tribe for witchcraft when she was very small and had grown up using her strange gift to keep herself alive; Bartra had promptly declared that she wasn't cursed by the gods, but blessed, and had taken her in.

In fact, for a class of supposed "elites", they really were more of bunch of misfits who had nowhere else to go, herself included. _The irony is strong with this arrangement,_ she thought wryly, keeping the connection with Meliodas tightly closed as Denzel stalked to the front of the class. Her uncle fixed the elites with a stern glare at she stiffened, a bunch of irrational thoughts-- _does he know oh gods he knows doesn't he--_ running through her mind as he grabbed the lever of one of the arena's cages and flipped it, green gas (ah, so today was the two-headed Zippleback, wasn't it. _Joy)_ swiftly filling the arena and dividing the recruits into pairs.

"Today is about teamwork," Denzel announced as the gas swirled around them, sweet-smelling and deceptively innocent-looking. "Now, a wet dragon head can't light its fire." _That explains the buckets, I suppose. He could've_ told _us before you actually let the dragon into the arena, though. "_ The Hideous Zippleback is extra tricky. One head breathes gas...but the other head _lights_ it. Your job is to know which is which."

Elizabeth backed right into Gowther, the two of them both stiffening and mouthing apologies to each other before getting back to back. She supposed she could count herself lucky; Gowther was actually quite nice to her, though they stayed far away from the realm of "friends". It was an unspoken law amongst the teens of Liones that anyone who openly hung out with runty, weird, overly imaginative Elizabeth Liones would become as much of a pariah as she was.

So, of course, she'd been left to her own devices, and voila. Now she had a dragon as her best friend, a bunch of brilliant ideas that only she could bring to life, and the experience of flight under her belt while the rest of them only had the knowledge that an endless war brought. _Boom,_ she thought, a bit vindictively as she peered through the gas, listening and waiting. One perk of hanging out with a dragon (especially one as stubborn as Meliodas) was that one gained patience, as well as an intimate knowledge of the stealth tactics they used. Even though a Zippleback was fundamentally different from a Night Fury (who were the kings of stealth, if the fact that they'd never been seen by humans until about a month ago was any indication), the signs were still there--the dry hisses that could easily be mistaken for a passing breeze, the tiniest of claw-clicks on stone and the faintest of sounds from scaly hides slipping over stone. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, ignoring Gowther's frantic muttering of dragon stats as shouts of rage (apparently Arthur had accidentally splashed Elaine and Diane in the face with the bucket's contents) echoed from somewhere within the depths of the gas, followed by a screech of shock and a blur of white and gold that was probably Elaine dodging the beast's attack. Elizabeth worried at her lip as she strained her ears, picking up on a slight clicking sound, which was followed by--oh, _no_.

One of the heads wound out of the gas, leering at them through a misshapen mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth ( _venomous_ , if she'd heard Gowther correctly, as if this dragon needed any _more_ natural weapons) and flicking its tongue gleefully. "I'm not a damn snack," she hissed at it, and its yellow eyes flashed, nostrils flaring in annoyance. _Yeah, yeah. You're scary, but not as scary as an angry Night Fury--which I faced, by the way. You're nothing, you scaly stick of dynamite._ She took a step back instinctively as it clacked its jaw, wincing as Gowther splashed it with a yelp. _Did that do it?_

Gas leaked from the corners of its mouth, the other head emerging with sparks crackling in its maw, and Elizabeth gave a nervous chuckle as her sort-of friend stumbled back. "Wrong head," he whispered, before getting blasted by gas and dropping the bucket, darting away as gas swirled ominously, leaving Elizabeth alone with the monster.

 _Not a monster,_ she reminded herself fiercely. Even if it couldn't take human form like Meliodas (according to him, only the higher-level dragons could shift like that), dragons were as intelligent as humans were, and these were soldiers under the command of their King, just like she was training to be. Still, to survive, she'd have to get her hands dirty--a fact she hadn't wanted to come to terms with until now, she admitted, hurling the water and _missing_ by an inch. "Oh, come on," she gasped, staring up at it as it advanced with a shriek of triumph, falling onto the ground as it stormed forward with flared wings, the eel shifting--

 _The eel!_ Even as Denzel shouted out her name, running forwards (not to protect his niece, but to protect his brother's daughter for the Chief's sake, she thought bitterly), she shifted her vest revealing the eel. The Zippleback reared back and let out a shriek of horror as she got to her feet, staring it down with a strange fire burning within her (something she'd felt flickers of, but never on this level-- _courage,_ true courage, the kind that made someone stand up after behind beaten down for so long that their body ached from the agony it brought them). _"_ _Back!"_ she roared, and it scuttled backwards with a shriek of fright. The flame spiked and she raised her hands, gesturing as if to shove it backwards. "Back," she repeated, just as loudly, advancing on it as it scrambled away in fear, ducking back into the safety of its enclosure. Triumph rose in her as she raised her voice, feeling for the second time that day (the first being when she'd arced into the air with a dragon, soaring through the sky) like a Valkyrie, an avenging angel, a warrior ready to protect those she cared for. "That's right, back into your cage!" Withdrawing the eel, she leaned forward and bared her teeth at it, something that Meliodas had told her was what dragons did when they were challenging each other. The Zippleback's eyes widened and she tossed the eel into its cage, stepping back and straightening. "Now," she told it, grabbing the edge of the door and pushing it shut with a wince, "think about what you've done."

Feeling a thousand feet tall, she spun towards her classmates and froze; staring at them. Their expressions were utterly dumbstruck, Denzel's included, and Gowther's bucket had fallen out of his arms. _Well, don't look so shocked. I'm full of surprises, after all, and not all of them are destructive._

 _Aaaand I need to get to the forge and start working before Meliodas starts getting pissed at me._ "So," she inquired, shuffling towards the exit. "Are we, ah, done here? Because I've got somewhere to...yup, uh, see you tomorrow!" Elizabeth broke into a run, waving sheepishly at them as she ducked outside.

* * *

 

"Prototype saddle!" she chirped the next day, raising it gleefully. Meliodas grinned reluctantly at her, eyeing her pride-and-joy (the saddle, of course, the Mangler was now useless and the prosthetic and its other equipment had taken its place) with what looked to be a hint of wariness. She supposed it made sense on a certain level (instinct was difficult to overcome, and the kind of haughtiness he'd had when she first met him still had yet to disappear entirely), but she wasn't too worried about it; after all, the saddle was designed for maximum comfort and maximum speed. It was amazing what an all-nighter could do, especially when coupled with burning determination and a kind of high that only came from victory. "What do you think?"

The Night Fury padded closer, running his fingers admiringly over her work of art. "It looks...okay, I guess."

"Okay?" she huffed. "Just okay? I put over twelve hours of non-stop work into this thing and it's just _okay?"_

His grin turned mischievous and _whoa, new side alert._ She'd seen hints of this cheerful, teasing Meliodas before, appearing more recently now that he seemed more relaxed around her, but it had never been so blatantly directed at her before. "It _looks_ okay. Never said anything about how it would _work_." He reached up (she still found it hilarious that the most dangerous dragon in the Britannian Isles was a whole five inches shorter than she was) and patted her on the head patronizingly. "Good try, though, human."

Elizabeth puffed out her cheeks, stomping her foot on the ground in mock-annoyance. "So, are you gonna help me test it or not?"

His eyes gleamed. "Of course. If..."

"Oh, gods," she sighed, clapping a hand to her forehead dramatically. "Always a catch with you dragons. What is it?"

Meliodas grinned at her, tail lashing gleefully before breaking into a sprint. "If you can catch me!"

"Wha--hey! No fair!"

Three hours later, exhausted from chasing that stupid, _stupid_ dragon around, she managed to pin down the Night Fury (who was laughing hysterically the entire time, damn him) and wrestle the saddle onto his back as he shifted into his draconic form. Elizabeth hummed as she settled onto the saddle, tugging on the cord that would control the tail. Meliodas shifted underneath her before springing up, gliding over the lake; she pulled the cord and let out a shriek as he went one way and she went the other, the two of them crashing into the lake (this was becoming a thing now, wasn't it? At least it wasn't the rocks they were falling into). Elizabeth swam to the surface and spat out a mouthful of water ruefully. "Okay, so it might need some work."

Meliodas glared at her (ah, there was the familiar side of the dragon she knew so well), only his eyes visible as he sulked, mostly submerged. _You think?_ he inquired sarcastically, and she laughed.

* * *

 

"Okay," she muttered, tugging on the cord again; she'd altered her design and it now connected to her foot, so that she could manipulate the tailfin's movements with it. Meliodas growled impatiently and she rolled her eyes. "Quit whining, we'll be up in the air in a few moments."

 _You take too long,_ he muttered through the link, and she yelped as he suddenly shot into the air, flapping straight for the rocks (oh, please let it work, she doesn't want to die this time, _please--_ With a rapid shift of the fine that set her ankle to throbbing, they managed to clear the edge of the cove. _Told you, human,_ Meliodas hummed smugly and she grimaced, before swearing violently as the forest rapidly approached, gravity having only been challenged for a few moments before taking control only more.

She tugged fruitlessly on the tailfin, and cursed again as it flapped in the wind, complete deadweight. "Spoke too soon," she gasped out as the Night Fury let out a stream of swears that would've made Veronica proud, tumbling into a field of tall grass that cleared Elizabeth's head. The cord snapped as they fell and she managed to duck and roll back to her feet, stumbling a bit as she pushed aside blades of wild, spicy-sweet smelling grasses in search of the idiot who thought it'd be a good idea to fly before either of them knew what they were doing--oh.

She stopped short at the edge of a flattened patch of grass, staring at Meliodas. He'd shifted back to human form and was purring-- _purring!--_ as he rolled around in it like a cat in catnip, wings spread wide and his pupils heavily dilated so that the green was a remarkably thin ring. A small laugh escaped her and he rolled onto his stomach, giving her a lazy smile.

"'Lizabefffff," he slurred, and another giggle escaped her (gods, this was priceless; if only she had a way to record it). "Lookit alla pretty faeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerieeeeeeeeeeesssssssssss~" He pawed clumsily at the air and let out an honest-to-Thor _giggle_ as he snatched something that didn't exist out of the air. He fixed his eyes on her face (with what looked to be a huge effort) and remarked matter-of-factly, "Your hair looks reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally pretty when it's down like tha'."

She blushed without really knowing why--he was her friend, damnit, compliments (however rare) were to be expected. She certainly gave them out enough, and he was high on this...dragon-nip stuff anyways. Nothing he said could be taken seriously right now, not when he went from talking about faeries to complimenting her hair. _It's...exactly like catnip. And completely hilarious...but incredibly useful._ She plucked a handful up and stared at it. _If roofs and fences were dusted with this stuff, the dragons wouldn't even be able to attack. They'd be sitting ducks._ She shivered at the thought ( _her father, holding an ax, bringing it down on a drugged-up Meliodas's head as he reached for her, a peaceful smile on his face as the blade came down--)_ , but tucked the stuff into her vest pocket anyway. _Even if I don't use it like that, this could be handy to carry on me._

It was, in fact, incredibly useful; while the Gronckle ripped through the elite class mercilessly (but never once going for the kill despite having a million openings, despite what Denzel said; _this only proved how right she was)_ , she simply held out the grasses and the Boulder-Class dragon slowed to a halt, pupils dilating as it purred; she rubbed the stuff over its nose even as Diane approached, praying that the potent stuff would knock it out, and it did.

And it also gained her a group of...well, _friends_. Excluding Diane, whose suspiciousness was actually palpable. Arthur ran to catch up with her as she hurried out of the ring, Elaine flying close behind with an eager Gowther in tow, each of them babbling and asking questions. It was...overwhelming, but it felt _good._ Finally, finally she'd earned the respect of most of her classmates, and without even killing a dragon--without any violence at all!

 _But Meliodas still comes first,_ she thought, determinedly shoving away the vision of her friend bleeding out by her father's hand, her sister's blade, her new friends' ruthlessness. _And_ she had a dragon to get into the air. "I left my ax back in the ring," she lied smoothly, jogging a few steps backward and passing Diane, who recoiled with a look of...disgust? _Ouch_.

Well, her loss, Elizabeth supposed. She had a dragon, Diane had a hammer. _I win._

* * *

 

Meliodas was purring, his entire body vibrating as she scratched behind his earflaps, weaving her fingers into (surprisingly soft) blond hair and rubbing fiercely. "You're losing all of your dignity right now," she remarked, moving down towards his neck; his back arched and he let out a rumble of delight. "I hope you know that."

"Whooooo caaaaaaares," he hummed. "No one would b'lieve you." He glanced at her, green eyes slits of pleasure with a hint of devilish amusement in them.

"Oh, you are _the_ worst person I've ever met," she grumbled, scratching along the scales under his chin.

He grinned at her. "I knoooowwww--oh!"

Elizabeth stared down at him in disbelief; she had hit a spot under his chin and he'd just...collapsed into a boneless heap on her lap, sprawled languidly over her legs like a cat claiming someone's lap as their territory. "May I present to you the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself," she muttered, a small smile playing around her lips as she subconsciously separated a few strands of his hair and started braiding them together. "An idiot who can go from intimidating to _this_ at just a touch."

Meliodas hummed in agreement on her lap, opening his eyes slightly and smiling up at her.

(It worked on the Deadly Nadder, too, earning her glares from Diane and a group of people to sit with at dinner in the Great Hall, her sisters pausing to tell her how proud they were of her. She hoped they'd never find out that her motives were anything other than dragon annihilation).

* * *

 

"Daylight-damnit, get back here!"

Elizabeth stifled a laugh as Meliodas pounced on a dot of light reflected off of one of her hammers; he cast her a glare before being distracted by its movement and chasing after it again with a battle cry. His determination was _adorable_ , especially since he so obviously knew what she was doing but was too eager to catch the dot to scold her for it. "Who's the idiot now, dragon?" she called out mischievously.

"I _hate_ you--" he started, before rounding on the dot and bounding after it again. " _YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE!"_

Elizabeth buried her face in her arms and laughed until her sides ached.

(She guided a Terrible Terror back into its cage with ease, only increasing her legend amongst the recruits--and Diane's resentment. She was almost caught by the brunette warrior while carrying her new design to the cove; luckily, the entrance wasn't easy to find, even for someone like her old friend).

* * *

 

The new design and gear were the first to work, but also the first to actually _break,_ although technically, it had been the fault of the rope that they used to keep themselves from getting destroyed by the wind when they were practicing. Even so, it was still extraordinarily annoying; here it was, a design that had worked perfectly, and now she had to drag her best friend into a host of his greatest enemies because a flimsy piece of rope had snapped and ruined the mechanism, chaining them together and forcing Meliodas to stay in dragon form until she could get the saddle off of him.

Elizabeth grimaced as she led Meliodas--who was far too curious and far too unconcerned, padding about like he owned the place (this was _her_ forge, damnit). She sorted through a pile of her tools, before whirling around to face him as he tossed a bucket aside. _Will you stop that?_ she demanded.

He thumped his tail on the ground and rolled his eyes, prodding at a group of curved sword prototypes she'd forged in between saddlemaking. _These are cool. Did you make them?_

_Yes, now stop poking at my stuff before someone hears--_

"Elizabeth?"

Oh, fuck. She quickly slipped out of the stall entrance, closing the doors swiftly behind herself (the look of rage on Meliodas's face when he saw Diane--okay, so _maybe_ she shouldn't have told him all those stories about what happened to the two of them--was one that she certainly didn't want to have to deal with right now) and giving her friend a weak grin. "Uh, hey, Diane. What can I do for you?"

The brunette narrowed her violet eyes at Elizabeth. "I normally don't care what people do, but you're acting weird."

_That's it, I'm going to blast her; PLEASE let me blast her, she deserves it--_

**_NO,_** Elizabeth insisted. She could practically sense Meliodas sulking behind her before wincing as he tugged her backwards, slamming her against the shutters of the stall window. Diane arched her eyebrows. "Well, weird _er_."

She tried for a smile, opening her mouth to response--and was suddenly yanked out of Diane's line of sight, managing to scoop up the necessary tools as he bounded out of the forge; she leapt onto his back mid-stride and slipped her feet into the stirrups, the two of them vanishing into the dark forest.

"You didn't have to threaten her," she murmured to him later, fiddling with the scissors and hammer she'd used to free them of each other. _Why did he do that? He's never acted like that before, never so...protective. Except after that unplanned flight._

Meliodas shrugged, the gleam of his black-and-gold scales like shadows webbed with lightning. Green eyes met hers, remarkably human as he plucked lightly at his prosthetic. "You're a part of me now," he said after a moment. "I wasn't about to let her insult you and get away with it. And I'd already let my friends down once; I wasn't about to do it again."

She blinked, touched (and a bit confused by the last part, but she chose to let it go in favor of an explanation of the first bit). "A part of you?"

He gave her an awkward smile--an _actual_ awkward smile coming from Mr. I'm-The-Dragon-Prince-I'm-Never-Wrong-Puny-Humans--and she could've sworn that his cheeks were dusted with pink. "My mother taught me about something like that when I was a hatchling," he murmured and she leaned forward, intrigued. "She said that 'when two people are as one in their innermost hearts, their strength can shatter even iron or bronze.' And she said that--that being like that wasn't an easy thing to do, because it took absolute trust on both sides and allowing your identities to change for each other, to include the other. We've both done that, and so you--" He shrugged. "You've become a part of me now, I guess. Get used to it."

Elizabeth gazed at him for a moment, eyes wide. What he'd said--or what his mother had said to him (same thing, she supposed, but it felt so _important_ that it came from him) was...somehow a perfect description of their strange but powerful bond. "Then you're a part of me, too," she decided. "Now and forever."

And his smile lit up the sky more beautifully than moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: TEST FLIGHT SCENE


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they are together, as one, the world is like ripe for discovering, for conquering, for the rise of two misfits who have just found each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUWBm0Z-Xww  
> Link to the score from the OST!  
> Also, other songs you might wanna listen to while reading this:  
> Where No One Goes  
> Cut To The Feeling  
> Fire n Gold

The sun sang on his wings, the wind slipping around his body, his streamlined body built for this, for cutting across the sky. Meliodas tilted his head slightly, glancing down at the glittering ocean miles below him, and felt a flash of vindictive satisfaction. _I never thought I'd see this again,_ he admitted to himself, _but..._

"Alright, we're gonna take this nice and slow," a voice informed him; Meliodas huffed in mock-annoyance and glanced at his rider for a moment. Her silvery hair was braided back, sadly (he knew it was more practical; long hair would just get in the way at this altitude with the wind speeds being what they were, but he did like it long) and her delicate fingers shook slightly--nerves, probably (he remembered watching his mother teach Estarossa to fly; his little brother had been so nervous that the silvery-black Night Fury had fallen out of the air the first five attempts), but her eyes were alight with the fire that he loved so much, the kind that lit her up from the inside and made him wonder how the village of Liones did not love her half as much as he did.

Yes, _love_. He said it, because he felt it, and knew what it felt like now--like lightning in his veins, like fire rising in his heart, like a glorious conflagration that would light up the world if it was let out of him, like gold and thunder and growing stronger with every beat of his selfish dragon's heart. _I love Elizabeth Liones,_ he thought, and wondered what would happen if he let that realization pass into their link before dismissing it. She was a human, a Viking, and one day she'd be ripped away from their traitorous friendship--something he hadn't wanted to realize, but knew would happen regardless--and be forced to be the princess her father wanted.

 _Unless I flew her away, away from the King and the Chief and anyone who could ever break us._ He dismissed the thought seconds later; unlike him, Elizabeth had people she had to stay for, like the sisters she loved and the father she cared about despite the fact that he might be the second worst father in the history of the world. With a rumble, he forced himself to focus again, beating his wings gently as Elizabeth ran through the sheet of tail positions they'd created. "Position three," she murmured, more to herself than to him, "ah, four. Sorry."

Meliodas blew a sigh out of his nostrils and gave her a sharp look (wings-over-tail in love with her or not, he'd still be pretty annoyed if they ended up falling into the water); she grinned ruefully and shifted the fin. The metal creaked and he glanced at it as the simple movement from the stirrup made it shift before looking ahead again and narrowing his eyes with a rumble of determination. A few slight wingbeats had them soaring forward, carving a perfect banking turn as he flew high above the cliffs. He felt Elizabeth shift on his back (probably looking at the tail; from what he could tell, it was working perfectly) before leaning forward again.

 _Is it time?_ he inquired through the link.

Elizabeth's grin was something that he could physically _feel,_ sunlight and determination and the fire of an other-spark burning deep within her. "It's go time," she agreed, and they arced down into a practically perfect dive. Meliodas let out a roar of triumph as he tucked in his wings, the dive slowly and exquisitely controlled, spreading his wings as they leveled out over the water. "Yeah!" she whooped, shifting the fin so that he listed to the left, dragging his wing through the shockingly icy waters as they glided low over the ocean to an archway built of age-old sea-stacks. He glanced up at her (her eyes were narrowed with concentration, the rush of flight clearly building up within her) before turning his attention forward and rumbling in concentration as they soared beneath it. A thrill ran through Meliodas as the top of the arch passed high above them, the shrieking of gulls following their movements echoing off the rocks. "Yes, it worked!" he heard her exclaim, and he let out a huff of amusement in response to the (admittedly quite perfect) maneuver)

 _That went okay,_ he muttered to Elizabeth, before letting out a screech of indignance as she _guided him into a wall, what the FUCK. **OW?!**_

"Sorry," she called apologetically; he growled (he really did love her, but seriously? Into a _giant stack of rock?_ That was beyond clumsy and beyond _rude)_ and shook his head at her.

 _Just don't do it again-- **F** **UCKING--**_ He roared out in annoyance as she rammed him into _another sea-stack._

"That was my fault," she apologized with a wince. Irritated (and aching from where she'd smashed him into freaking _rock towers_ that even baby Scuttleclaws knew how to avoid), he flicked an ear, rapidly, satisfaction (and a hint of guilt) running through him as it connected-- _lightly--_ with her cheek. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it!" came the responding snap and he hid a grin as she shifted positions. "Four--uh, three."

Meliodas felt the prosthetic move and matched it with his flesh-and-blood fin, snapping his wings down as they powered upwards, streaking high above the sea-stacks, beyond the towering mountains of Liones, beyond the village and the Nest and anything that could ever hurt them, ever rip them apart. A shrieking roar of exhilaration born of the adrenaline rush ( _finally_ , he was flying, _really_ flying, faster and stronger than he'd ever been before, no longer broken and no longer a slave to his father's whims). "YEAH!" Elizabeth shouted, and he grinned in response. "GO, BABY!" They shot towards the clouds, her laughter ringing in the upper air as he soared higher and higher. "Oh, this is amazing, the wind in my--" He felt something tear loose (oh stars, not the equipment, not at this height they would both die at this height, _Elizabeth would die at this height)_ and her voice went from excited to horrified. "CHEAT SHEET! STOP!"

And he made the most stupid decision of his life.

He stopped, at thousands of miles up in the air, and accidentally sent Elizabeth flying from the saddle, the connecting hook unclipped. They stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide and terrified--and then gravity took hold and they went plummeting down with matching screams. Meliodas writhed wildly in the air (this wasn't _right,_ this was _bad_ , he wasn't supposed to be falling; dragons like him ruled the sky so why was he falling-- _why couldn't he protect Elizabeth?)_ let out a shriek of distress and reaching out through the link as Elizabeth--so much smaller, with so much less drag, so quick to fall--hit his wing and went tumbling down with a cry of terror; wait, no, she was _speaking?_ While literally FALLING TO HER DEATH, what the _fuck_ , did she care at _all_ about her own safety?

He let out a shriek as the wind suddenly tossed him backwards, sending him spinning around wildly as Elizabeth shouted at him wildly: "Y-you've gotta kind of--angle yourself, there--"

 _WHAT--DO--YOU--THINK--I'M--TRYING-TO--DO?_ he roared through the link, and she winced, clearly trying to maneuver towards him--no, bad idea,  _really_ bad idea, why would she do that, this was--

"OW!"

 _MAYBE YOU SHOULD'NT HAVE TRIED TO GRAB A SPINNING DRAGON, THEN,_ he suggested as loudly as possible, panicking as the impact of his tail on her cheek sent her spinning away from him. _Oh, stars, **Elizabeth** \--_

And then, (the stars decided to listen for once, or maybe Elizabeth's gods did, but either way they were _saved saved saved)_ with a presence of mind and flexibility that would've made a Grapple Grounder jealous, she managed to grab onto his saddle and pull herself into position--just as they started falling down a mountainside into a maze of sea-stacks and fog, the kind of place where one misstep meant death. Meliodas snapped out his wings, wincing as the treetops sliced at the edges, a stream of expletives flowing in between their minds as they both swore and panicked simultaneously.

He shrieked, baring his teeth in a last shout of defiance--

She threw away the sheet of positions, forced to trust her instincts--

_They became one._

Their individual thoughts vanished, minds sliding and interlocking perfectly with each other, knowing instinctively how to move with their other half. Speed increasing beyond anything they'd ever had as individuals, they wove through the deadly maze with heart-stopping precision, not a single wingbeat out of place. The wind whistled over their body, their sheer swiftness causing it to build up the eerie shrieking noise that came right before a Night Fury's attack. They were no longer two different creatures, but one being, one heart, one mind, forever bound to each other.

The maze ended, as did their strange melding-of-minds; Meliodas extricated himself from the depths of Elizabeth's identity (one that shone with silver fire, that he could've spent eons trying to comprehend), breath heaving in his lungs as he registered the feeling of the sun on his wings, of the cool air...and the fact that they'd survived. No, they'd done _more--_ the two of them had achieved something that neither of them could singularly; he'd always considered himself the greatest flier of his kind, but he'd _never_ moved that fast, nor so precisely. Adrenaline thundered in his veins, rising on the absolute euphoria of their success, and he punctuated Elizabeth's roar of _"_ _YEAH!"_ with a blast of plasma that exploded directly in front of them. "Oh, come on," she muttered, and a rumbling laugh built up in his throat.

 _That's what you get for flying me into a sea-stack,_ he told her, and this time he was the one who got smacked with an indignant hand as they flew together into the fire.

\-----------------------------------

"Hungry?"

Elizabeth glanced over at him and made a face (she was still in her riding gear even though he wasn't; the saddle had been placed to the side and the gear carefully stored in her pack to keep from tangling up). Meliodas grinned at her (oh stars, even her disgusted faces were adorable, he had it _so damn bad)_ and bit into a fish, knowing full well that she wouldn't have one. "What? They're yummy." He swallowed down a bite and closed his eyes reflexively before sighing in appreciation. "Ah, salmon, what I wouldn't do for thee."

"I cannot believe you, of all people, just said _yummy."_ She prodded at him playfully and he snickered, throwing up a wing to block her "attack". "What happened to Mr. Proud-And-Haughty-Dragon-Man?"

"I can't believe _you_ just said 'Proud-And-Haughty-Dragon-Man,'" he huffed in amusement, tilting his head back so that it rested on her shoulder. The two of them had found a little cliff around sunset that was completely devoid of both people and dragons that neither of them had known existed (Elizabeth had lit up at that find, her eyes shining as she eagerly spoke about finding new lands and the maps she'd always hoped to create; he'd just watched, unsettled by how much she was like the person he used to be) and were sitting on the sun-warmed rock in front of a small fire, the wind-chill vanishing from his body as he leaned against her. "But, if you really wanna know...I guess it's because of you. Partially," he amended quickly.

She blinked down at him, her blue eyes glittering with the curiosity he loved so much. "How so?"

 _Oh, stars...guess I owe her an explanation now. This is probably going to backfire horribly; there's no possible way that she'd return my feelings, but...bleh. Love's made me into a sap._ "I used to be an awful lot like you," he mumbled, and shit, maybe he shouldn't have started with the whole "tragic backstory" thing. _Too late now. "_ Insatiable. Not exactly my father's vision of a perfect soldier." He smiled wryly; those days had been memories long-buried until Elizabeth had changed...well, _everything._ "My mother protected me from his reach and I used to mostly hang around--and get into trouble with--four other dragons." A wistful grin crossed his face as they flickered in his memories (white and blue, orange and a thousand shades of blue and green, dusky violet and black, pale green ~~spattered with scarlet blood~~ ). "I never fought in raids, never fought at all, and the Dragon King's control didn't affect me yet--I was too young." He touched one scaly finger to the charcoal of the fire, shooting a tiny blast at a wayward Terrible Terror who was after his fish; the tiny green dragon let out a squeak and staggered off, looking ill. The flames licked hungrily at his black-and-gold scales, but he didn't feel the heat--dragon scales were fireproof, but their insides were as susceptible as a human's--perhaps more so, since most of their flames were born of a gas that the fire chambers near their heart produced. Igniting them from the inside would cause them to spontaneously combust. "But the fact that I wouldn't listen to him made him angry, so he took control of me as soon as I was susceptible and forced me to kill one of them. And he promised that the others would be next if..." His fingers tightened into a fist, and he was shocked to find that something was burning behind his eyes--the threat of tears, something he hadn't felt in years. _Of fucking course._

"If you didn't agree to his demands," Elizabeth finished for him, her voice shaking slightly. Meliodas stiffened with a gasp as she intertwined her fingers with his, soft skin brushing against his black-and-gold scales. "Oh, gods...so you've been forced into doing what he said for the past, what, decade?"

He smiled grimly. "Dragons age slower than humans," he reminded her. "I'd be considered your age if I were a human, but I've been alive--" _alone--_ "for fifty-seven years. Still a child to giants such as my father and his allies." He shook his head, ear-flaps flattened against his skull. "Forty years," he murmured. "Forty years, I've been under that bastard's thumb. And the worst part is that after the first decade of being his right hand, I started agreeing with him, that humans had to be wiped out, that we were the ones born to rule this world, that the King's path was the only path. And my brothers did too, so that only reinforced what I came to believe. Until you."

"Until me?"

He glanced up at her--those blue eyes bright, silver hair falling in her eyes, cheeks pink (probably from the chill of the wind), the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on--and felt heat rush to his face. He quickly looked away. "You reminded me of what I used to be--the kind of person who would defy those who were cruel and the kind of person who didn't care what other people thought, who could create things and loved to explore and was endlessly curious. You reminded me that there were choices, that there were places the Dragon King couldn't reach me and that such things as friendship and--" If he didn't say it now, he never would, so he forced it out-- "and _love_ and _freedom_ and flying just for the thrill of it. I hadn't laughed as much as I did with you in the forty years I spent serving the King, and...I think I'm turning back into the person I used to be." He ducked his head. "Except I think this version is better, because the other one...he didn't _really_ care about anything except for enjoying himself and hanging around with his friends. But this version cares about people, about things, about fighting this war for peace rather than hiding away from it. And about you. More than I ever imagined." Meliodas dared to look up at her after a moment's silence, braced for rejection, for confusion--and he froze, starstruck.

The setting sun tinged her silver hair gold, like frost gilded with flame, and illuminated her cerulean gaze with a startling shine. She squeezed his hand and he jolted a bit, quickly glancing down and praying silently that his face wasn't bright red. "What do you mean?" she inquired, and--and was her voice uneven, or was he imagining things?

 _Stars grant me courage,_ he thought, squeezing his eyes tightly shut before whirling around and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss. He felt her body stiffen and his heart sank (she didn't want him; of course she didn't, he'd killed dozens of her kind and he'd never be worthy of her, not in millennia) as he slowly opened his eyes--and then she kissed him _back._

Explosions of fire and starlight sparked behind his eyelids, and Meliodas melted into her unsteady embrace, wrapping his arms clumsily around her neck and wrapping his wings around her, pulling her closer. Lightning danced on his skin at her touch, as if the fire in his heart's fire-chamber had spread through his veins and was lighting him up from the inside.

It was everything he'd dreamed of, everything he'd longed for, and more.

"I love you," he breathed when they pulled apart, his arms still twined around her neck, folding his wings back reluctantly. _I've waited far too long to say it, but I'll say it a thousand, two thousand, three thousand times to make up for it. I'll be yours forever, for as long as we live._

Elizabeth's eyes lit up, blazing cobalt, like light and courage given human form. "Then I suppose I'll have to say it back, won't I?"

"That would be nice, yes," he managed to say, resting his head against her shoulder with a contented sigh. A weight had vanished from his shoulders, replaced with the feeling of flight and open skies, of uncharted seas and a thousand worlds he and she would discover together. She ducked her head and kissed him again in response, the feeling as incandescent and glorious as before when her lips touched his, and he laughed against her mouth, listening to her heart beat in perfect synchrony with his as they whispered words of love to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM  
> SURPRISE MELIZABETH CONFESSION; HAHA


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth realizes that she can't run from this war, and vows to bring peace, even if it means going up against the monster called the Dragon King. Luckily, Meliodas has a few allies in mind for their new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i'm having a mental breakdown I pictured Meliodas and Elizabeth singing "Helpless" and then my mind went to "Satisfied" (if she was ever forced to marry another in one of her reincarnations, poor Meliodas would be devastated and UGH) and then it went to "Stay Alive (Reprise)" with Meliodas singing a (modified) Eliza's part and mY HEART

"Everything we've ever known about them is _wrong_."

Those were the words Elizabeth wanted to scream when she entered the ring, facing off against the elite class's final opponent before Diane (she certainly wouldn't do it, she refused, she would never kill a dragon, _never, never, never)._ That was the battle cry she wanted to shout to her father when he burst into her workshop, laughing and daring to talk to her about mounting dragon heads of spears and slicing off the wings of dragons who were no more mindless killers than the people of Liones (though she had to admit, she was grateful for the helmet made of her mother's armor). Those were the words she longed to shout into the air, to throw them in the faces of people like Veronica and Diane and Bartra, who thought that the only good dragon was a dead dragon.

 _If only I could,_ she thought ruefully, glancing up at the crowds of people (oh gods, the Elders, Jenna and Zaneli, were here as well, probably to decide who got the "honor" of killing the Monstrous Nightmare). If only she could tell them that a dragon--the Night Fury, of all things, the swiftest and deadliest of all dragons--was kinder and braver and sweeter than any human she'd ever met. Elizabeth could feel her lips curving up into a smile as green eyes flashed in her mind, brighter than stars, and a kiss that tasted of fire and open skies, and she quickly shook her head. _Even if I don't wanna win, I should at least stay alive. It would suck if I ended up dying after coming this far._ A laugh huffed out of her--that was an understatement if she'd ever heard of; she had _so much_ to live for now--and she spun out of the way of a blast without even looking at it (Gronckle blasts always listed a bit to the left, devastating when aimed at a larger target like a ship or a house, but useless against a smaller, moving target--like a girl who'd danced with dragons). It roared and lunged for her again--and oh, gods, no, Diane was running towards it, Gideon in hand and ready to break the poor thing's skull in (she wouldn't let that happen, she couldn't, _no more dragons would be hurt by humans here)_.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. _Maybe they'll still choose her...no, the rules state that the winner must be the one to kill the Nightmare. But unlike the rest of them, I can escape before anyone ever finds me._ She exhaled. _We'll find new worlds, new dragons, he and I, and we'll be together. I have to believe that everything will be fine._

 _Meliodas, this one's for you._ She reached out and scratched the Gronckle's sweet spot quickly, wincing as it collapsed to the ground with a thud. Diane skidded to a halt in front of her, eyes wide, mouth gaping, and Elizabeth wondered what she was going to--

" ** _NO!"_** She watched with wide eyes as Diane let out a roar of anger, swinging Gideon wildly. _Yelling. That's what she was going to do. Can't say I didn't see it coming._ " ** _SON OF A HALF-TROLL, RAT-EATING MUNGE-BUCKET, GODSDAMNIT--"_**

"That last one was creative," Elizabeth muttered under her breath, before glancing up at Denzel as he advanced. _I've got to get out of here. Meliodas?_

His response was immediate, worry tinging his thoughts; normally she didn't contact him during dragon training (too easy to end up dead because of a distraction), so she could only imagine what fears were running through his mind now. _What is it? Is everything alright?_

 _I think we're going to take a permanent vacation,_ she admitted, biting back a smile at the small laugh that ran from his thoughts to her mind at her words. _I've made my peace with my father, and the village...well, it's gotten too small for people like us._

 _So, we're going to see the world, then?_ he inquired.

 _And uncover every last secret it holds,_ she agreed. _I love you, you know._

 _Oh, I know._ There was a pause, and then, _I love you too._

Elizabeth closed the connected after that, sighing before looking up at her uncle, her father, the Elders--oh, gods, the Elders. "Uh, later?" she tried, shuffling towards the exit and swearing as Denzel grabbed her (and lifted her with _one hand,_ holy _hell)_ , pulling her back. "H-hey, I'm kind of late for--"

"For _what?"_ And yep, there was Diane's war-hammer, poised to dig into her throat, her old friend's face a rictus mask of rage. "Late for _what,_ exactly?"

"Quiet down," her father rumbled, and Elizabeth winced as Diane spun Gideon away expertly, leaving a tiny nick in her throat that burned slightly (it was bleeding, wasn't it? Oh, _wonderful_ , now she'd have to keep Meliodas from trying to _murder_ Diane on their way off the island) and glared defiantly up at the Chief. The silver-haired girl hesitantly raised her eyes to his, and recoiled inwardly at the pride she saw burning within them, her heart aching. _The first time he's been proud of me, and I'm going to destroy it all_. "The Elder is deciding."

The Elder Jenna's sharp eyes swept over them. Elizabeth ducked her head and snuck a look at Diane; her once-friend was standing straight, hammer at the ready and her violet eyes flashing and crackling with a violent sort of energy. Soot stained her cheeks, but there was a defiant tilt to her chin that said "choose me, for I am a Valkyrie, a warrior, and I can make or destroy the world as I choose". _I hope I look unimpressive enough in comparison._ She was fairly certain that she did--her hands were calloused and scarred from the forge and too fragile to wield a sword, the only muscles she had came from tending to the blacksmith's stall, and she wasn't defiant or wildly courageous--oh, not in the ring, at least; when she was in the open air with Meliodas, that was when the world felt open to her, but with a weapon in her hand she was useless, cowardly in comparison. She was someone with ideas and strategies and was decidedly un-Viking-like.

Which was why she was shocked (shocked and terrified, shocked and enraged because _now_ she was good enough for them, _now_ she was worth loving, worth speaking to, worth being friends with--not when she _needed_ a friend, when she found one in a dragon who didn't give a shit about the fact she was the weakest one, the one with strange ideas, one who _loved her for her strangeness_ ) when the Elder passed over Diane and chose her.

"You've done it!" Denzel roared, and the other recruits cheered raggedly; she was swept up on top of Arthur's shoulders as the others shouted and punched the air eagerly, cheering about how she got the "honor", the "glory" of killing her first dragon in front of the tribe (she couldn't bring herself to be angry at _them,_ not really _._ Her fellow recruits didn't have any blood on their hands, not yet; any of them could've been in her position, any of them could still learn to trust dragons ~~and she was abandoning them to the war~~ ). Elizabeth forced a smile and punched the air along with them weakly.

"Oh wow," she managed, "I am so--"

\----------------------------

"Leaving," Elizabeth called out; Meliodas hummed in the back of her mind in response, and she could see his green eyes glowing across the lake as he jumped out of the tree and glided over to her, prosthetic tailfin swishing over the ground as he landed lightly in front of her and kissed her hand, grinning. She felt heat rush to her face and mentally prayed that she wasn't turning tomato-red in front of him (ah, the power of love, able to make her feel like an idiot even when she knew he returned her feelings), her lips curving into a smile. "Hello, Meliodas."

"Hey, princess."

"Princess?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck, the four mini-ear-flaps that came from his jaw flicking nervously (gah, even the tiniest of his gestures were adorable; surely being this cute was illegal or something). "I was...ah, testing it out. Was it bad?"

"It was kinda bad," she admitted with a snicker. Meliodas grinned ruefully and gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go. "Points for effort, though."

"Effort? You're just being patronizing; that took me only two minutes to come up with," he joked. Elizabeth laughed despite herself, setting down the pack she'd filled with supplies. "Though I suppose we do have years to come up with pet names." His brow furrowed for a second, before his face contorted with a savage, protective rage and his hand suddenly flashed out to the side, grabbing something, scaled hands wrapping tightly around...

"Diane's Gideon," she whispered, horrified, and whirled around; her old friend was standing behind her, eyes wide with terror as Meliodas let out a snarl and flattened his ear-flaps, pupils narrowing into slits. _No, don't attack her--not yet_!

 _She just tried to_ kill _you, Elizabeth._ A growl filled the air as he bared razor-sharp teeth at the Shieldmaiden, and Diane's eyes widened even further, her body shaking as the dragon advanced. _And she's done nothing but hurt you in the past. I don't see any reason why I shouldn't cut her throat._

 _She tried to kill_ you, she corrected sharply, holding out a hand to her--boyfriend? Lover? She couldn't think of a word that truly described how they felt, as if they were each the other's heart, their soul, the reason for the flow of blood in their veins. No words seemed to do their bond justice. _And she doesn't deserve to die, not for not knowing the different between mindless killers and soldiers forced into a war not worth fighting. In another world, you and I wouldn't know that difference either._

Meliodas huffed, wings still flared, the glow of plasma in his throat lighting up his veins and keeping Diane in place. _Then what's your plan?_

_Simple. If she doesn't know the difference, then we show her._

There was a heartbeat of grudging silence. _It's a stupid plan._

 _But right now, it's all we've got,_ she reminded him, and the dragon growled low in his throat, retractable claws sliding back (but his teeth remained bared and Elizabeth had no doubt that he was just as easily poised to kill as before). She held her hands out to her old friend pleadingly. "Diane--"

"What is _that?"_ Her hand went up, a finger shaking as she pointed at Meliodas, who rolled his eyes; Elizabeth could practically _hear_ the deadpan snark that he was biting back, and stifled a laugh despite herself. "T-that--"

"Well," she said hesitantly, selecting her words carefully, "I guess you could call him the unholy offspring of lightning and Death itself?"

" _That's_ the--"

"I am _literally_ standing right here," Meliodas interrupted, eyes narrowed. "You realize I can understand every word you say, right?"

Diane went pale (well, pal _er_ ) and glanced quickly at Elizabeth, before looking back, clearly out of her depth. It was kind of funny, actually; the confidence she resented so much as gone and now the misfit runt, the _hiccup,_ was the one she was looking to for instructions. "It--you--"

"Although you do seem quite stupid," the Night Fury observed. "I think I was right about you being different from most of your species, Elizabeth."

"Don't be mean," she chided, though she was beating down the urge to laugh (being mocked was definitely _not_ a way to get Diane on their side). "Sorry, Diane, he's got no filter."

"I resent that!" he protested. "I have a filter for those who _deserve_ it, that's all."

Oh, gods, if this kept up, she really was going to burst out laughing. "I love you, but seriously, shut up." He gave her an injured look before huffing, crossing his arms and turning around to sulk. "Oh, gods..." She gave Diane an apologetic smile; the Shieldmaiden looked a bit less frightened and absolutely, one-hundred-percent confused. The brunette opened her mouth, closed it, and--

"Great," Elizabeth muttered. "She's running now. Perfect."

"I told you so," Meliodas hummed, looking vindicated. She elbowed him, and he yelped. "Ow!"

"Come on, we're going after her. Does the new gear I gave you work?"

He rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, one that made her want to lean in and kiss him and _no, Elizabeth, this was not the time for romantic thoughts_. He rolled his shoulder, the sleeve of his tunic transforming into the beginnings of his flight gear (she'd made a few minor improvements on the working design, and he'd worked some of his magic--the kind that allowed him to keep his clothes when he shifted, or to communicate mind-to-mind--so that it would shift between clothes and flight gear at his command). "Like a charm. You made it, after all."

"I suppose I did," she agreed with a small smile, even as he shifted fluidly from dragon to human, slipping into the saddle and leaning forward as he crouched beneath her, the two of them rocketing into the air seconds later, their movements perfectly synchronized as they always were in flight (Diane's Gideon lay on the ground, forgotten for now).

It took them remarkably little time to locate her old friend; Diane's speed, of course, was nothing to that of a Night Fury and his rider, but Elizabeth had honestly expected greater stealth from the girl. _Guess panic ripped all that away,_ she thought, feeling a little smug as they circled over the brunette like some harbinger of doom (which she supposed Night Furies were). "Alright, let's go," she murmured, and Meliodas gave a snort of vindictive glee as they arced into a dive, his claws wrapping around Diane's arm ( _gently,_ she had to remind him over and over, much to her amusement and his chagrin) and pulling her into the sky. Her screams rang out over the uncaring forest, pleas to Odin and the gods that Elizabeth knew full well would never be answered. _Drop her,_ she told Meliodas, and, sensing the flaw within the statement, quickly added, _ON A BRANCH. Not on the ground, or in a river, or off a cliff or--or in a volcano. That would be bad._

 _You're no fun,_ he sulked (it never failed to amaze her that a Night Fury, of all dragons, could sulk with the best of them; it also never failed to make her think of him as "adorable"--which, admittedly, was right up there in her most-thought-physical-traits of his next to "beautiful" and "exquisite").

 _Ah, but you love me anyway,_ she remarked gleefully.

 _..._ _you win this round,_ he muttered, and she laughed as his claws opened from around Diane's arm, depositing her safely (okay, not exactly _safely)_ on one of the highest branches of the tallest fir. They landed atop the tree itself, the trunk bending low under the weight of Night Fury and girl, and her once-friend gave her a vicious glare. "Oh, come on, it's not like we murdered anyone," she protested.

"You're riding a _dragon._ Our sworn enemies," Diane spat. "Do you really think its claws are free of blood?"

 _Again, I'm literally right here._ Meliodas gave the girl a look that could've burned down entire forests (and thankfully didn't, because as much as she disagreed with what her father did, she didn't want her entire village to die without resources); to Diane's credit, she didn't flinch or burst into flames. _Is she stupid?_

_No more stupid than you were when you were blowing up catapults and, admittedly, killing people._

_Stop making logical arguments! You're supposed to be on my side._

Elizabeth stifled a laugh as the Night Fury's protests subsided into indignant mutters. _Love you~_ "Do you really think yours are? Or will be, if this goes on?" she pointed out.

Diane bared her teeth in a surprisingly draconic gesture. "That's different."

 _Oh, sweetheart... it's a war zone. No one's hands are clean on either side; I'm just trying to keep anyone else from dying._ She stiffened at her own thoughts--keep anyone else from dying? Wasn't she just going to flee Liones forever with the love of her life? _Can I...can I really do that? Abandon the people I've grown up with--good people, kind people, my family--just because I don't agree with them? Shouldn't I at least try for peace?_

_Yeah...yeah, I should._

_No more running._

"They're the sa--"

 _"_ _NO!"_ Diane's snarl made Meliodas hiss in annoyance, and Elizabeth laid a soothing hand on his head, watching her old friend carefully as she edged, hand over hand, towards the trunk of the tree. "I am _not_ listening to _anything_ you have to say!"

"Then I won't speak," Elizabeth assured her, the words coming out in a rush, falling over themselves in order to escape her mouth. _This is how change begins--with a single person, and then another, and then another. And when words aren't enough, I'll prove what I know through my actions--that dragons are as intelligent as humans, that they're as capable of emotion, of love and fury and kindness as we are._ "Just let me show you." She extended a hand to her old friend (she could sense the change beginning, the wheels turning in her mind). "Please, Diane."

The brunette hesitated, before pulling herself up onto the branch and reaching out towards Meliodas. The Night Fury growled as she approached, and Elizabeth sighed. _Can you at least try to be civil?_

 _Mmm...fine._ Still, she could sense a brewing plan in the back of his mind, some kind of mischief that would probably be the most unhelpful thing in the world but that he'd end up doing anyway. _Liar,_ she thought affectionately, hiding the word from him as she glanced back at Diane, who had hefted herself onto Meliodas's back behind her and was looking rather nervous (she couldn't blame her; there'd been a time where she was scared of him too). "You good?"

"Get me down," she snapped.

Elizabeth bit back a sigh. _Guess I can't expect her to change just like that._ "Meliodas, let's drop her off. Gently," she added quickly. In response, the Night Fury spread his wings, like lightning-dusted shadows that stretched for over forty feet, hanging there in the silence. _Oh, thank the gods; he hasn't tried anything yet._ "See?" she chirped, glancing over at her old friend. "Nothing to be afraid of--"

And then Meliodas rocketed straight upwards.

\-------------------

It took Elizabeth a few moments to register the absolutely _speed_ of the sudden upward movement, her body adjusting subconsciously as the Night Fury accelerated. She could hear Diane screaming behind her, her voice shrill with terror (just _great_ , _exactly_ what they needed, because fear was _obviously_ the best way to cause the end of a war). Elizabeth swore as her old friend nearly toppled off of the saddle, grabbing her hand and forcing her arms around her waist. "MELIODAS!" she roared as they burst through the clouds. "What is _wrong_ with you?!"

There was no answer, just a dark sense of mischievous, vindictive glee emanating from their connection. She bit back a groan as they leveled out for a moment (of course he chose _now_ to go silent on her; _rude)_ and gave the white-faced Diane an apologetic look. "He's not usually like this..." And as she spoke, his wings folded and they plunged downwards, towards the ocean. "Oh, no."

They plummeted into the ocean, the brunette's screams cut off as Meliodas dunked them underwater; Elizabeth gasped at the shocking cold but tightened her grip on the saddle, trying to talk some sense into him. "What the hell are you doing; _we need her to like us_!" He only chortled in response, a rumbling laugh coming from his throat as they suddenly arced upwards again and--oh, no, no, _no_. "And now the spinning," she huffed as the Night Fury spiraled upwards, corkscrewing through the lowest cloud layer at speeds that were certainly _not_ approved for new riders. "Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile."

 _I'm not_ useless, he shot back indignantly, even as he started tumbling from the sky, Elizabeth tightening her grip as she did so. She opened her mouth to retort (so _now_ he responded, that stubborn idiot of a dragon; she never knew that loving someone meant they'd infuriate you as much as he did)--and was cut off by Diane's frightened, gasping voice:

 _"_ _I'm sorry!"_ Elizabeth felt her once-friend bury her face in her shoulder. "I-I'm so sorry. J-just get me off of this thing!"

And Meliodas leveled out beneath them, a soothing hum coming from her dragon's throat as they suddenly soared upwards. Elizabeth blinked at him, before huffing a small laugh under her breath. _All that to get her to apologize?_

A pleased hum ran through her mind, the same tone that rumbled through his body now. _Think of it as a present._

_A present for what?_

_Existing. Not killing me. It's up to interpretation, really._ His voice turned slightly hopeful, a little bit worried. _Do you...do you like it?_

She bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. _I love it. And you._

His humming increased in volume, though he sounded a bit bashful now. _I know~ Ooh, but there's a view and a half there. Look up._

She did, and gasped with delight (Diane was already gaping at the picturesque sight before them). The sun was setting and the clouds were tinged pink and gold, illuminating the village of Liones in a way that neither of them had ever seen before. Meliodas laughed in her mind at her sudden awe, rising upwards with a few gentle flaps, soaring into a towering kingdom of cloud palaces and sunlit towers of rose-gold and white. She heard her old friend suck in a breath, and glanced over her shoulder to see her leaning back, trailing both her hands through the soft, cool clouds, a giddy smile that the silver-haired girl hadn't seen in years on her face. She shared a grin with the Night Fury, before glancing up and through the clouds as he looped through them.

The sky was the color of ink, deepest blue with a scattering of stars the likes of which Elizabeth couldn't remember seeing in...well, _ever._ The night sky in her memories was always clouded with smoke and fire, clouds and thunder, death and pain, but this one was _bright_ and _beautiful,_ like velvet scattered with silver jewels and-- "Oh!" she breathed as ribbons of color started twining through the night, rippling arcs of green and purple and blue weaving together with a magnificence the likes of which she'd never seen, the two (three, but for a moment she'd forgotten Diane's presence entirely) of them soaring through it together as the brilliant hues danced around them. _It's...so beautiful._

And then they broke free of the clouds and the dancing sky, and she felt all the air leave her lungs as they passed the guardian torches, flames burning hot in the darkness of night. Maybe she should've felt frightened, flying this close to the village (it looked like a whole new place at night, its own little galaxy of twinkling lights and shifting shadows, beautiful and strange), but all her fear had vanished. Meliodas ruled the night, was invisible in its depths, even with the strange shimmer of his white-golden scales, and she was fairly certain that Diane was on her side. In the night, with the person who had once been her best friend and the dragon who was her lover, best friend, greatest ally, partner...with them by her side, she was invincible.

As if in answer to her thoughts, she felt Diane's hand squeeze her forearm and looked back at her. Her former friend's violet eyes shone with emotion. "I admit it," she said after a moment, and Elizabeth chuckled despite herself. The brunette cracked a wry grin, before continuing: "This is pretty cool." She shook her head after a moment. "No, it's... _amazing_. He's amazing."

 _Flattery will get you everywhere,_ Meliodas preened, and Elizabeth cracked up, throwing her head back as her laughter echoed across the water.

And that, of course, was when it all went to shit--for something else had echoed over the water as well. A cruel voice that sounded like a knife scraping over stone, one whose words were garbled to Elizabeth's ears, but faintly understandable. _"_ _ **Come**."_

She knew the voice, because Meliodas knew it.

_The Dragon King._

A low growl hissed out of Meliodas's throat and she stiffened, leaning over him. "Don't give into him," she breathed aloud, her hands shaking. "Please--"

 _He can't control me any longer. Our bond snapped his ability to exert power over me._ His body was humming with tension underneath her, and Elizabeth rested a quivering hand on his scales. _I'm just wondering whether what I'm about to do is a good idea._

_What are you about to do?_

He glanced at her, one visible green eye glittering with worry. _You want to end the war, right?_

 _More than anything in the world,_ she responded, her voice deadly serious.

 _Then we need to see what we're up against._ Elizabeth let out a yelp as he suddenly whipped around, diving into the fog bank that encroached on the island of Liones every night. "I hope you know what you're doing," she murmured aloud.

"What, exactly, is he doing?" Diane questioned, sounding more curious than frightened. Good. As flighty as Elizabeth knew she could be, she'd need them both to keep a cool head if they were to face this...this _monster_ that had controlled her beloved's life.

"Taking us to the Nest," she replied. Diane jolted, opening her mouth to hiss something, but a shape--two shapes--no, three, four, _too many to count--_ melted out of the shadows. A Monstrous Nightmare flew on silent wings, followed by Gronckles, Zipplebacks, Nadders, and more uncommon dragons, ones that she recognized faintly as being Razorwhips and Sandbusters, all flying in perfectly creepy unison, all of them bearing sheep, fish, yaks--food from _her_ village, _her_ home. Rage rose up in her at the thought, and she gritted her teeth. _Looks like I'm not as detached as I thought_. "They're hauling in their kill," she realized with horror.

"Um...what does that make us?" her sort-of friend whispered in response.

"Guests?"

 _Hopefully our stay won't be very long,_ Meliodas rumbled. _Hold on. We're about to go in._

 _In wh--_ A yelp of shock (and fear, yep, the fear was definitely setting in now) escaped her as they glided free of the fog, towards a tall, craggy mountain with a pulsing red heart (like a villain's palace in a children's storybook, but rather than being goofy and cliche, it appeared intimidating and cruel). _A...a volcano?_ She'd never seen one in person, but the glowing mountain, with its acrid smoke that burned her lungs, could only be a dormant fire-mountain. She tensed, before letting out an instinctive cry of fear as the Night Fury twisted and dove through a tiny passage in the rock, dozens of other dragons following him into the gloom and coming out on the inside of the volcano. Dragons--hundreds, thousands of them, more than she'd ever imagined--clung to rock walls and curled on cliffs, each one dropping their kill (her village's _food_ , which they needed to _survive_ ) into the pit within the center, the depths obscured by reddish mist and swirling gasses. She couldn't begin to imagine how much of their food had been lost down there. "It's satisfying to know that all of our food has been dumped into a gigantic hole," she muttered bitterly.

"They're not eating _any_ of it," the brunette noted behind her. "Why..."

 _Of course they aren't._ Meliodas's voice was bitter. _The soldiers of the Dragon King are fed on the scraps of his great feast. To him, we are ants deserving of nothing more._ He circled over a rock spire, tilting his head upwards slightly (Elizabeth followed his gaze, eyes widening at the sight of two more Night Furies--the other two members of the deadly trinity that made up Liones's greatest foes?--perched on the rocks, one pure black, the other silvery in color) before snorting and diving onto a lower series of ledges, padding to a halt next to a small group of four other dragons. She blinked at each one in turn--a Woolly Howl with white and blue scales, a dragon that she recognized from rough sketches as the long-thought extinct Deathsong, a small pink Gronckle with darker magenta patches, and a Silver Phantom with scales of varying shades of purple--before he interrupted her thoughts. _I'm going to shift to semi-human._

 _Is that safe?_ she asked worried, dismounting carefully and helping Diane off. Her gaze drifted to the four dragons. _Won't they attack?_

Another snort huffed out of his nostrils and he shifted fluidly to human form, his flight gear changing to clothes as he did so. "No more dangerous than what we're doing now, trust me," he murmured to her. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze (Diane looked on uncomfortably; ah, the pains of third wheeling. She'd done it for Margaret and Gilthunder and now her old friend got to do it for her. Vengeance was sweet), and he gave her one of those shining smiles she loved so much. "And they won't attack me. They're my friends."

 _Ah...so they're the ones he ran with before, then? But why are there four if he killed one?_ She winced at the thought. _Or, more accurately, the Dragon King killed one? Maybe it's just dumb luck that there's four here on this cliff?_ She watched as Meliodas walked in front of them, waving his hands in front of their snouts worriedly and snapping his fingers. They didn't respond, staring blankly at the pit.

"They look more like the dragons we've fought," Diane pointed out, sidling up to her and interrupting her thoughts. "Their eyes look different."

She glanced at the brunette curiously. _I think she's onto something._ "How so?"

"Well, your dragon--"

"Meliodas," she interrupted. Diane nodded, taking the minor correction remarkably graciously.

"Right, Meliodas--his pupils look more human. Circular, and they dilate or contract based on his emotions, right? And there's more...I don't know, _light_ in his eyes, and his energy feels kinda different. These four..." She gestured with one hand. "Their pupils are all like slits, and they feel kinda dull. Like actual wild animals, not feeling, reasoning creatures."

 _She's right. These dragons look like the kind we see in the raids--dull eyes, blank responses. It's no wonder Vikings see them as animals; that's all they're allowed to be._ "I think they're under the King's control," Elizabeth murmured in response.

Meliodas gave her a distressed look at that. "If they're under his control, I can't break them out of it unless I'm of equal or higher power than he is."

"You're his son; can you at least try?" she pleaded, ignoring Diane's exclamation of "his _what?"_ behind her back. "It's not like you're forcing a whole army of dragons free of his power, just four. And you know at least three of them personally, so..."

He blinked at her, expression skeptical. "I-I don't know if I have the power to do so. He would've killed any of his children who had that ability; I've seen it done."

"Or maybe it's not something you're born with, but something you develop." She grabbed his hands in hers, searching his face desperately. _I think I know what you're trying to do here by going to them, but your plan to gain allies won't work if the King holds them all under his thumb._

 _I know, but--_ He exhaled roughly. "Fine. I'll give it a shot." Elizabeth watched, caught between nervousness and eagerness, as his eyes drifted closed. _Something_ started to radiate from him; an aura of power, perhaps?

Yeah, it was _definitely_ an aura of power. She could feel it, ferocious but subtle, fiercely combating the ever-weakening sphere of his father's control. It was like lightning dancing on the ground, hitting the weak points of an enemy's defending wall as he laid siege to it relentlessly.

And when it broke, it _shattered._

Elizabeth pressed her hands to her mouth in order to hold back a shout of delight, and Diane let out a quiet cheer as the four dragons flinched and shuddered as one, eyes closing as Meliodas opened his, looking tired but glowing with victory. His green eyes found hers and he gave her a brilliant smile, pressing a kiss to her lips; she hummed her victory cry into his mouth and he laughed, sinking deeper, deeper into the fire of his embrace, the shining light--

"O-kay," Diane interrupted, pulling them apart (Meliodas gave her a sharp look, which the silver-haired girl was pleased to see she returned with no fear). "Maybe don't do that in the Dragon's Nest surrounded by thousands of hostile dragons?"

... _As much as that human annoys me, we're keeping her, right?_

Elizabeth stifled a laugh and looped an arm around his shoulders; he grinned up at her. _Of course. She's one of us now...and my friend._

The Woolly Howl huffed behind them, and she turned to see the white-and-blue dragon blinking down at them with sharp eyes, magenta bordering on scarlet. Meliodas snickered at him. "Ban, no one can understand a word you're saying."

It rolled its eyes and shifted, Elizabeth let out a squeak of surprise as it--he--took on the form of a tall, broad-shouldered man with angular features and a lanky build, a scar tracing from his neck to his cheek. He blinked down at Meliodas, who was suddenly silent as well.

"W-what's going on?" a small voice stammered, and she looked down to see that the Gronckle had shifted into...into a talking _pig_. _What even..._ Not that she was complaining, because pigs were totally cute, but still. It was just _weird._ "Those two seem really pissed at each other..."

And that, of course, was when Meliodas threw up his hands in delight and shouted (with a volume that was thankfully lost in the buzz of wings and tails and thousands of growling dragons): "BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

"CAP'N!" the man roared in response, and the two rushed at each other gleefully, only to be stopped by what looked to be a floating fourteen-year-old (well, he could've been younger, she supposed, or older) that must've been the Deathsong, judging from the patterns of orange and blue scales on his body. His hair was short and orangey-brown, his eyes an amber that looked remarkably familiar, almost as if she'd seen it before.

"Look, as, um, _exciting_ as this reunion is, can you maybe postpone the arm-wrestling contest until later? We're kinda in a sensitive place."

"You're no fun, King," Meliodas sulked, though his green eyes were bright with mischief.

"Yeah, live a little, floaty-boy," the tall one (Ban, wasn't it?) grinned.

"Arm-wrestling?" Diane interrupted, and they all turned (in eerie and probably never-to-be-repeated unison) towards the brunette, whose eyebrows were arched curiously and _whoa,_ Deathsong boy--King--looked like he'd seen a ghost. Elizabeth glanced at him quickly (face pale, hands shaking, the frills behind his ears quivering slightly) before looking back at her friend.

"A...strange but routine greeting ritual between the Captain and Ban," an unfamiliar female voice explained; the silver-haired girl turned to see an elegant woman with gleaming golden eyes and sleek black hair. She arched her brows at Elizabeth, a small smile playing around her lips. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend, Captain?"

 _Captain?_ she questioned, glancing at him. Though she'd figured that they'd probably know him a little better than she did (or...well, not _better_ , but in different ways), the nickname (or title?) was unexpected.

He grinned at her ruefully. _Would you laugh if I told you that it was my mother who started referring to us as a "crew" with me as the Captain?_

A snicker escaped her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as he pouted at her, looking indignant. _What? It's funny!_

 _You're so mean,_ he grumbled, but his smile was as bright as ever. "Guys, this is Elizabeth, the one who shot me down and broke the King's hold--oh, and her human friend, Diane. Elizabeth and Diane, these are my friends, Ban, King, and Merlin."

"Ahem!" the pig squealed indignantly, and she glanced at the other dragons as they exchanged looks, each one showing some degree of apprehension in their expression. She felt Meliodas tense next to her as Merlin stepped forwards, her eyes glittering with some emotion she couldn't place.

"Captain, this is Mara's son, Hawk. The one whose egg she laid before she...died."

 _Mara?_ She glanced at Meliodas, sensing the hum of his emotions suddenly vanish, his fists clenching at his sides. His green eyes appeared momentarily dull under a haze of...of grief, grief and guilt. _Mara must be the friend he killed._ "I-I see," he said after a moment, before crouching by Hawk. The pig met his gaze with sharp black eyes. "I won't make excuses for what I did, but I _will_ apologize." Elizabeth reached down to squeeze his shoulder, and he gave her a small, shaky smile before looking at Hawk again. "And I'll kill the Dragon King."

Ban whistled, seemingly (and surprisingly) unsurprised. "That's a big task. How're you gonna do it?"

"Simple." Meliodas stood and tilted his head at his old friend, glancing back at her with a light in his eyes as sharp and clear as diamond. "Elizabeth and I are gonna end this war from the human side, and then we'll fly out and burn him to the ground"."

"Both of you?" King asked, eyeing her warily; Elizabeth narrowly resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Why can't we do it on our own, without the humans? It would be safer that way." He shot a concerned look at Diane, who blinked in surprise.

In response, the Night Fury flared his tailfin, showing off the prosthetic she'd made (she still felt a thrill of pride run through her whenever she looked at it, her greatest accomplishment). "I can't fly without her, and I wouldn't even if I could," he declared fiercely (Elizabeth felt flames leap around her heart at that, filled with a ferocious love for this dragon, for her dragon).

Interest flashed in Merlin's eyes. "Eldrsal," she murmured. "That's intriguing."

 _Eldr-whatsit?_ The word sent a shudder through her, as if her blood and bones knew what it meant, even if her mind didn't. "What is?" she demanded.

The Silver Phantom flicked her tail, looking faintly amused, lips curving up in a mysterious smile. "I couldn't _possibly--"_

 _"_ _Get down!"_ King hissed suddenly, shifting to full dragon form again, the other dragons (Meliodas included) following suit. The Night Fury crouched with a low rumble, glancing at Elizabeth.

 _The Dragon King is waking. Get on my back, quick._ She cast a quick look at Diane, beckoning her closer as she quickly clambered into the saddle, crouching low over his back as the other dragons let out uneasy rumbles. The brunette mounted up behind her, and Elizabeth could see her hands shaking with fear (she didn't bother feeling triumphant; she was just as terrified).

And the mountain shook.

A dragon--no, this was no dragon, it was a beast, a _monster_ \--erupted out of the smog, huge jaws snapping some poor Gronckle out of the air (she heard Hawk whimper and felt a pang of sympathy for the young dragon). Dull gray scales covered its body, and she felt such a sense of _wrongness_ from it that she narrowly resisted the urge to throw up. _That's what we're up against? Its head alone is a thousand times bigger than we are! It's the size of the mountain! How--how do we stand up to something like that?_

A low snarl ran through the Nest, and Elizabeth stiffened as the same knife-on-stone voice spoke in her thoughts. " ** _It seems there's a traitor in our ranks...one who has brought those weak vermin, humans, amongst us."_**

"I'll show him _weak,_ " Diane hissed, and Elizabeth whipped around to face her, grabbing her arm to keeping the infuriated-yet-frightened girl from doing anything rash, before freezing as a realization hit her.

"You could hear it?"

"Well, obviously--"

 ** _"_** ** _Traitor, step forward now, and perhaps I will be lenient,"_** its voice rumbled, interrupting Diane.

A growl filled the air, this one coming from five throats. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, even though her limbs shook (oh gods, they were really doing, they were actually going up against this thing, oh jeez, now would be a great time for her mind to come up with a genius strategy) with fright as they melted free of the shadows, even Hawk hissing at the King as the seven of them paced forth. Rage flashed in the beast's eyes as it saw them, and Elizabeth realized that it had no intention of "leniency". _"_ _GO!"_ she screamed, and Meliodas shot upwards at the point of a V formation as the five dragons arced straight upwards, outpacing even the King as they burst free of the Nest.

And as they flew for home, four new allies in tow, Elizabeth wondered with a sinking feeling if her father would ever find the Nest, if he would die at the hand of the Dragon King.

 

 


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go horribly, horribly wrong.  
> ....that's it. No upside here.

The sun was high in the sky when a feeling settled deep in Meliodas's bones, one that he'd dreaded. One that said that their Plan had gone horribly wrong, that the Vikings were refusing peace, that Elizabeth was in danger (dead, dying, _red seeping from sockets that held such blue, blue eyes, a hole pierced through her body, beautiful heart gone lungs still leaving him alone alone **ALONE** )_. A ringing sounded in his ears, one that made him jerk out of an uneasy slumber, claws digging into the ground as he cast a wild look around at his friends. They seemed not to notice it, exploring the cove that he'd led them to last night, the one safe place close enough to Elizabeth and far enough from his father. _They_ had faith in the Plan. _They_ didn't have as much to lose, except maybe King, who'd been strangely affected by the appearance of Elizabeth's friend. _They_ didn't care so much ( _so much,_ with an intensity that broke him and burned him and burned in his veins with the strength of the sun) about his human that they would raze the world for her.

 _The Plan._ It was set perfectly, unable to be resisted, tugging on the natural pull of human curiosity and a shared faith (one that Merlin--wise, clever, taunting Merlin, who might've well known something would happen--had been the only one not to share) that most living beings were inherently good, and would respond well to an open hand and the promise of peace. And yet he couldn't trust it, not when Elizabeth was in danger. His human? Fighting a _Monstrous Nightmare_ , one of the most dangerous dragons out there? The ones with a nasty habit of setting themselves on fire? It was exactly what wasn't supposed to happen, if things went well, and yet...

"Cap'n?" Ban's voice sounded very far away to his ears, and he shot his friend a quick glance. The Woolly Howl looked mildly concerned, spikes standing on end as his tail twitched warily. "You look...agitated."

"Huh?" _Agitated_. Yes, he supposed that was fair. He _was_ kind of agitated (nervous and utterly terrified would've worked too), for good reason. Meliodas shook himself out briskly, lowering his ear-flaps with a huff as he lay on his back. The feeling in his bones subsided a bit and he closed his eyes. "Just worri--"

It returned in full force, ice shocking him awake as he jolted upwards, ear-flaps raised and eyes wide, but this time it was accompanied by a mental scream (not for him; Elizabeth wasn't calling out for him and they were too far to hear each other, but somehow, he could feel her terror as his own and hear the cry of fear that rose within her) that raised the spines on his back. His breath hitched in his lungs, and her name was hissed out through his teeth, hands shaking with horror and rage:

_"Elizabeth."_

And he was running, wings flapping, kicking off of rocks and scrabbling at the walls of the cove until his scales came loose and his fingers bled, ignoring the exclamations of his friends as they rushed to stop him (he whirled and snarled, throwing them back with a sweep of his wings as Merlin held them back, golden eyes flashing with a knowledge that he didn't want to ponder now, not when Elizabeth was so obviously in mortal peril). He sprang upwards again, wings flapping wildly, clumsily (but who gave a shit about things like _grace_ and _reputations_ , not when the reason he was still alive, still flying, was in pain, was scared, was hurting) as he fought for purchase on the steep walls of stone. A kick off a ledge and another flap, hands reaching, teeth bared--and his left hand landed firmly on the soft earth, claws sinking in with a _shhhnk._

Triumph roared within him, and he swung himself over the side, hitting the ground running, bounding through the forest, Elizabeth's fear pounding in his veins and augmenting his own, the words _save her_ repeating endlessly in his mind. Meliodas leapt over a fallen tree, sinking his claws into the bark before pushing off of it with a hiss that conveyed only a fraction of his rage, wings churning as his pace increased. Already the trees were thinning, the forest blurring together before giving way to cliffs, to a village of blood and beauty.

A roar cut through the air and he stiffened. _Nightmare._ He could see flickers of fire from the arena where the kill was supposed to happen, where Elizabeth had risked everything (and _lost,_ getting _hurt_ and maybe _dying_ and he needed to save her nownow _now--)_. A howl of rage built in his throat and he leapt from the cliff, folding his wings as plasma flickered in his throat. The telltale whine of one of his attacks, of a Night Fury, of a warrior bearing down on their enemies built up around him, but he could barely hear it. **_ELIZABETH!_**

Her fear flickered in his mind, leaping (fear for him; she didn't need to be afraid for _him_ , stars-damnit, she needed to think of _herself_ a little more). _Meliodas, no--!_

But he was already shooting past the Vikings with a snarl, a single blast shattering metal bars that had held up against years of hostile dragons, years that anger and fear and hatred had been unable to melt _snapping_ as he shot through them, slamming into the Nightmare with a battle cry as smoke rose up from the blast. The fiery dragon let out a shriek and threw her head back with a roar of challenge, scales of red and brown and gold lighting up as it--no, she, it was a female (just his luck; female non-shifters were savage fighters, often more deadly than males)--lunged past him again, striking at Elizabeth (she looked beautiful even now, even with her eyes shining with tears and her body stained with soot and the scent of fear; she wasn't smiling, though, her face was twisted with terror and all he wanted was to make her smile again).

 **"** **Oh, no you don't."** The words, snarled aloud in the dragontongue, made the Nightmare flinch for a second; a second, _ha,_ that was _more_ than enough time. Meliodas lunged for her, claws flashing out as he slammed the larger dragon's body to the ground with a roar. She snapped her powerful jaws, hooked fangs cutting into his cheek. He felt hot blood seep down his cheek, but the pain was numbed, nonexistent in this vortex of fire and fury inside of him. The cut only incensed him (this was something Elizabeth would've suffered instead of him; how _dare_ this creature touch his human, aim to hurt her, kill her, hunt her like she was an _animal_ ) and he met her snapping teeth with his claws, slashing at her wildly before whirling backwards and backing towards Elizabeth; the Nightmare lunged for her again and he slammed her head to the ground with a cry of rage. _"_ _HOW **DARE** YOU TOUCH HER?"_

Her yellow eyes blinked up at him then, begging for mercy; he flinched back slightly (Mara's eyes flickered in his mind, gold and black and pleading as his claws ripped at her mercilessly). **"** **Please, lord,"** she rasped, in a voice that had clearly seen years of disuse. **"** **If I had known she was yours...I would not have attacked if I knew, lord."**

Meliodas blinked at her, unsettled (what had the humans done to her? What had she seen, done, been forced to do?). Mercy was not a concept that dragons, even shifters like him, really understood. Even those who were against the Dragon King were not known for being merciful; killing one's enemies in honorable combat over territory, mates, insults, those were all common. It was in their nature to be ruthless. They had to be, in order to survive.

 _And yet._ For their faults, humans knew mercy. _Elizabeth_ knew mercy, and had given it to him, and he'd given it in return. She'd taught him mercy, and it was a much wiser, much more honorable thing than killing.

Meliodas lifted his claws and stepped back; the Nightmare pushed herself to her feet and bowed her head, yellow eyes flickering as she slunk back to her cage without another word. He made his way over to Elizabeth in silence and kissed her on the cheek. "You taught me that."

Her eyes shone with grief, and his heart twisted (why? Why grieve, when she was alive and all was not lost and-- _oh, all was definitely lost for her)_ as she wrapped her arms around him. "You have to go--"

"GET IT!" a human roared, and she shoved at him desperately; he could see Diane's purple eyes glowing with horror from across the way as they poured into the arena. A man with a long white beard rushed at him with a roar (the Chief, the human King, Elizabeth's father coming to kill him at last). **_"_** ** _GO!"_**

His instincts roared at him to fight, to toss the humans aside and slam them into stone, breaking them, ruining them (they would not touch him, they would not harm _her_ , not while there was blood in his veins and fire in his chest). Meliodas gritted his teeth before clenching Elizabeth's hand in his tightly, her pulse, though it was racing a million miles an hour, a warm beat of reassurance as the horde of humans swarmed them. It was ripped away all too soon, and the Night Fury squeezed his eyes shut as rough hands ripped her away from him, slamming him to the ground. He didn't fight back, opening one eye as the sound of sharpening metal grated on his sensitive ears. The proud form of Bartra, Chief of Liones, stared at him through icy gray eyes so like his daughter's blue, and yet so unfamiliar. Elizabeth's screams rang over the arena, begging her father to stay his hand, and he couldn't help but grin mirthlessly, a small laugh escaping him. "A dragon always goes for the kill," he recited, and the man flinched, eyes widening. Ah, so speech to them was something purely human, was it? And if he could, then by Viking logic, he was not a monster.

Except he was also a dragon. And to them, that made him as much their monster as they were his. "But here is the most dangerous of dragons," he went on (okay, little white lie for the principle of the thing), and I'm about to let you kill me." He tilted his head back, baring his throat. "Do it. Prove what I've thought of humans other than your daughter. Kill me."

 _"_ _NO!"_ Elizabeth's wail made him flinch, and he glanced over at her. Face soaked with tears, skin red and blotchy from crying, shoulders heaving with sobs...she was beautiful even now, but he hated the beauty of her sorrow. She was so much lovelier when she smiled; like the North Star, his guiding light, the greatest ally of his kind. When he'd first seen her, he'd thought of her as a sun, too bright and blinding for him to thrive in, too warm for a broken monster like him. And then he'd thought her the moon, her light gentle, unsteady, fragile as glass. Meliodas gazed at her for a moment longer, carefully memorizing the planes of her face, the exact hue of her open-sky eyes, the shining smiles and the shape of her thoughts, before looking up at a silent Bartra again and closing his eyes.

_My star._

"Put it with the others."

His eyes flew open incredulously as hands wrapped around his arms, staring incredulously at the tall, shadowed figure of the man--the Viking who couldn't have been anything but _evil_ , the one who _hadn't_ gone for the kill--as he was dragged away.

Away from his home.

Away from his friends.

_Away from Elizabeth._

* * *

 

They came for him later. Loaded him onto a ship and set out, shouting about defeating the dragons and killing those demons at last, about finally claiming their home, and all he could think was _no. No, you'll die, and if you die she'll break, she'll die along with you; she LOVES you, you idiots, what are you DOING--_

Chains were snapped around his body, and he let out a harsh growl, shifting into full form with a snarl of warning before jerking backwards in horror as a muzzle (a _muzzle,_ like an animal, a beast, a mindless monster that needed to be chained because he couldn't be _trusted_ otherwise) was shoved across his mouth, sealing it shut. Elizabeth's thoughts burst into his mind seconds later and he flattened his ear-flaps with a soft hum of sorrow as her words poured into his mind.

 _This is all my fault, oh gods; Meliodas, I'm so sorry--please, you have to shift back to human and attack them, we'll get the others and fly out on our own. Maybe we can bring that monster down before Dad gets there._ He tilted his head as much as he could, just making out the silhouette of his rider on the cliffside platforms, her silver hair loose and flowing. He could sense her grief through their bond, and the shaking rage against her father and herself.

A sword prodded at him before he could respond, and he flinched away with a soft rumble of warning, meeting golden eyes accompanied by a scowl. "Don't even look at my sister," a girl that could only be Veronica Liones hissed. "Whatever you did to twist her heart, it ends today." Her eyes flashed. "You won't fool me with your human imitations, monster."

Meliodas blinked at her before snorting and turning away, blinking at Elizabeth's form with a wistfulness that would've horrified him months ago. How could he have gotten so attached to a human, _especially_ one who wasn't very _good_ at being one, who was so _different_ from her kind that they seemed to be two different species? _I love you so much,_ he informed the human girl simply. _And I'm sorry._ Because he wouldn't attack these people, the ones she loved despite all their flaws, not when he knew that it would only hurt her more.

She'd recover from his death. Find a human to love, light a new fire. The war would end with victory for the dragons, and the stragglers would wander away. New lives would start, and that bright, shining starlight of hers would be diverted down the path of war. After all, vengeance was a powerful motivator, and could be painted as justice all too easily. Elizabeth would learn to hate him eventually, but he would've already died on the black-sand shores of the Nest.

A sob rose up in his throat (one echoed in Elizabeth's thoughts), one that tore at his heart and made him feel as though he was on the verge of shattering. Dragons physically couldn't cry, but he almost wished he was in human form so that he could wail his loss to the skies, grieve for what was about to be broken on Viking swords and burned by dragonfire.

"Lead us home." The words were icy cold, the voice gruff, and the dragon stared up into the gray eyes of the humans' Chief. The gray was the color of stone, no grief, no emotion, no nothing. No idea that he was leading his people to their deaths. " _Devil."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....holy shit I made myself cry  
>  wait that sounds really narcissistic I'M SORRY I DON'T MEAN IT I LIED 
> 
> actually I did but that was because I heard "Like I'm Gonna Lose You" on the radio and immediately put it to these two lovelies


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some women (dragon or Viking) rend their garments and weep and wail at the skies when their mates are torn away from them. Elizabeth does that for about...five hours, before getting up and putting together a team of elite warriors to ride out and save her tribe from the Dragon King.  
> Needless to say, she's got the craziest, furthest-reaching plan possible, but it just might work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally gonna have the battle scene in it too, but Meliodas was very insistent that we see our heroes take down his father from his point of view. After some debating, I agreed, and voila--Elizabeth is now putting together our magnificent squad of Sins.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how long she watched the horizon. Everything seemed to pass in a blur, two voices echoing in her head, two very different sets of words bouncing around tauntingly. The cold, normally so biting, something she’d once had the sense to complain about, seemed to have settled dully into her bones, making it impossible for her to move, to breathe, to even dream of leaving. Over and over for hours and hours, she’d reached into the connection to her dragon’s mind only to find that the distance made it impossible for her to hear his voice. Over and over, she fell apart, her world shattering into beautiful, broken bits of sharp-edged glass, each one chipping away at her optimism and light and leaving nothing behind.

Her father was going to die. _Meliodas_ was going to die. All because she’d failed them both.

 _You’re not a Viking_. Elizabeth flinched at the echo of her father’s voice, the image of those icy eyes flashing in her mind—eyes without regret, without grief, without humanity. But his voice had broken on the next words, even as he cast her aside. _You’re not my daughter._

She should’ve been a Viking. Should’ve been brave enough to kill him when she found him in the woods. Then at least he would’ve died peacefully, and neither of them would be feeling this agony right now—the pain of having your other half ripped savagely away from you. A hysterical chuckle escaped her. _As if I could’ve._ She’d known all along that she didn’t have what it takes—too weak to fight, too much a thinker to act, too much of a talker to wage a war. It would’ve been so much _easier_ if she’d been like the rest of them, but no, Elizabeth Liones just _had_ to be different (and not in a good way).

“It’s a mess.” She stiffened at the voice (eerily calm, with a kind of sympathy she hadn’t heard for over a decade, glancing at Diane out of the corner of her eye. The brunette had retrieved her Gideon and held it in her hand, violet eyes shining out over the pale blue sky and churning black water. She looked like some kind of sentry, straight-backed and perfect.

Except she wasn’t. Elizabeth knew that now. She was just better than her. “You must feel horrible. You’ve lost _everything_ ,” the Shieldmaiden went on, and the silver-haired girl bit back a sharp retort because _excuse you, that might be true but it was also insanely RUDE_. “Your father, your tribe, your partner…”

“Thank you for summing that up.” The shorter girl silently thanked the gods that her voice didn’t waver, before wondering why she was bothering to thank a bunch of distant figures who obviously didn’t care for her, who didn’t give a damn about mortal affairs. She shook her head wordlessly, before blinking out at the endless sky, wishing that her dragon would suddenly appear, soaring over the water, all green and gold and ebon. Tears pricked at her eyes and she forced them back with a soft exhale. She felt empty, numb… _worthless_. _None of this would’ve happened if I’d just brought down my blade_. “Why couldn’t I have killed him when I found him in the woods?” she murmured. “It would’ve been better for—for everyone.”

“You’re right,” Diane hummed, irking her. Did she not get how the comforting thing _worked_? You were supposed to assure the other person that what they’d done was _right_ , that things could’ve been even _worse_ if they’d made a different choice, to tell them that things would be okay. Then again, Diane was a Viking, and Vikings didn’t make false reassurances. Or they weren’t supposed to, anyway. “The rest of us would’ve done it.” A shudder ran through Elizabeth’s body at the thought of anyone else, anyone more ruthless, more of a Viking than she was finding Meliodas instead. _But wasn’t I just saying that death would’ve been better for us?_ Guilt ripped through her for giving up on her partner so easily, and she glanced up at the sky with a soft huff. Her old friend turned to her, head tilted curiously. “So why didn’t you?”

 _Why—what kind of a question is that?_ Elizabeth shook her head, lips tightly sealed as green eyes, proud and haughty with a hint of fear, flashed in her mind. Maybe Diane would let it go if she didn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you?” she pressed again, and she exhaled roughly, turning away. Of course, her friend wouldn’t let it be; one thing they had in common was an ironclad stubbornness. Once they wanted something, be it knowledge or new skills or recognition from their peers, they would do anything to get it. In a way, they both had the ruthlessness that Vikings so prized, albeit in different ways.

“I-I don’t know. I couldn’t.” It was true; no matter how hard she’d tried, her arms hadn’t let her bring the knife down, sensing something more, something familiar within him.

“That’s not an answer,” the brunette shot back, and Elizabeth bristled. _What the hell do you want from me?_ Was there a special set of words she had to say? A password? Some kind of code?

“Why is this so important to you all of the sudden?” she demanded, rounding on Diane, who didn’t flinch. To be fair, most people didn’t flinch when she rounded on them (she was too small, too skinny to be very intimidating), but she could only imagine what she looked like now, ire roused and self-loathing at how easily she’d given up roiling within her. Violet eyes flashed. 

“Because I want to remember what you say right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—” She wouldn’t swear to the gods, not to those stony, empty fools who cared nothing for dragons or humans. “I was a _coward_. I was weak! I wouldn’t kill a dragon—”

“You said wouldn’t that time,” her friend noted quickly, and Elizabeth resisted the urge to punch her in the face. It wasn’t as if she knew _why_ she said wouldn’t! It was basically the same thing, wasn’t it? Couldn’t, wouldn’t, it all led to the same failing.

… which had then become her greatest strength. “Whatever! I _wouldn’t!"_ She waved her hands wildly, trying to communicate her utter rage, the depths of her failures and her hatred, her loss, to the only person who might listen. “Three hundred years, and I’m the first Viking—” _I’m not even a Viking anymore_ , she realized with horror, _I’ve been disowned_ — “who _wouldn’t_ kill a dragon.” She bit her lip, staring at those calm, taunting purple eyes before whirling away. _As if that matters now, seeing as we’re both dead anyway._

“First to ride one, though.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened at that, sucking in a breath. _She’s…right. No one else has ever flown—no one before me. No one bothered to try. Except…except me. A hiccup, a runt, a…a Dragon Rider._ Fire seemed to swoop around her heart in golden strands and wrap around it, as if she had a dragon’s fire-chamber. _I almost gave up on him…but never again. Never, ever again_. “So…”

Those green eyes flickered in her mind again: bravado, pity, and fear shining through the feral, frighteningly human emerald. Her own emotions, reflected back at her in the eyes of her mortal enemy, her best friend, the one whose soul matched her own. “I wouldn’t kill him because he looked as frightened as I was,” she breathed, the words coming out stronger with each syllable as she slowly looked up at her friend. “I looked at him…and I saw _myself_.”

Flames seemed to leap in Diane’s eyes, a small grin playing around her friend’s lips. “I bet he’s really frightened now. What are you gonna do about it?”

Elizabeth blinked, startled. For the first time (even Meliodas hadn’t asked her to do anything about an issue, had never _asked_ her to fix things—all the times she’d built something had been on her own whims), someone was asking her to _do_ something. To come up with a fix. They wanted Elizabeth, genius inventor, brilliant mind, creator of crazy plans. Which was unfortunate, because she’d been fresh out of crazy plans and genius inventions for a long time. “Probably something stupid,” she muttered.

“Good. But you’ve already done that.” Diane raised her eyebrows expectantly.

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of “sorry, fresh out of fixes, should’ve come before we got caught up in this whole ending-a-war business” before remembering the Nightmare. _I almost trained it. I bet I could train it now, if I tried._ The embers of an insane, ridiculous, longshot plan started to flicker in her mind, before flaring to brilliant life. “Then something crazy,” she breathed, raising a shaking hand with a wild, mad grin and running off towards the arena. She could hear Diane say something like “That’s more like it”, but she didn’t dwell on it, pausing to grab a length of rope from the forge before bursting into a dead-on sprint. _I’m coming, Meliodas!_

Elizabeth the Genius was back in business.

* * *

 

Of course, nothing was really that simple.

Elizabeth was about to release the Monstrous Nightmare from its cage when a voice came from behind her—Gowther’s voice, unusually sharp and determined. “If you’re planning on getting eaten, I’d definitely go with the Nightmare.”

 _What in the—_ She spun on her heel, staring at them in utter shock. Diane stood in front of their three other classmates, arms crossed, a wide grin on her face. Elaine hovered behind her, Arthur standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a straight-backed Gowther, the four of them advancing in perfect and never-to-be-repeated unison until they stood right in front of her. Each and every one of them had been considered a fake friend by her, but… _They came out here?_ “You…what?”

“I _love_ this plan,” Arthur burst out enthusiastically, before getting pushed aside by a grinning Elaine.

“You were wise to seek help from the world’s most _deadly_ weapon,” she declared.

“Um—”

“It’s me.”

And then Diane peeled her away, raising her eyebrows at Elizabeth with a grin wider than any the silver-haired girl had ever seen from her. “Well? What do you think of our soon-to-be elite squad of Dragon Riders?”

“Excuse me, our _what?”_ She stared at them, before shaking her head. “You do know this is treason? That we’re all probably going to be imprisoned and executed if this fails?”

“That monster dragon Diane told us about is probably gonna kill us all before that,” Elaine shrugged, the petite blonde’s amber eyes (wow, those eyes looked familiar) flashing. She landed on the ground and turned to the other three with a sideways smile. “So, let’s just go all in, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me!” Arthur chimed, while Gowther beamed and nodded. Diane spun her Gideon expertly and bared her teeth in a warrior’s smile, and Elizabeth swore that she could feel her heart filling up with—with _love_ for these stupid, stupid idiots, these misfits who had decided to throw everything they knew aside to follow her and save Liones.

“Then stand back and I’ll handle the dragons,” she declared, spinning towards the lever and feeling taller, stronger than she had in weeks. She didn’t need to hide any longer, and so she wouldn’t. She wasn’t alone anymore, and now she would fight beside her friends, her family. Because somewhere along the way, Veronica and Margaret and Bartra had stopped being that to her. Oh, she loved them, would never stop loving them, but she felt closer to these people and the dragons in the cove in a few short hours than she’d been to them in sixteen years. Green eyes. Bright smile. The energy she felt faltered for a moment, and she exhaled shakily. _I will save you. We will save you. And then you and I will end this together._

“No need.” Diane’s voice pierced her thoughts with a bolt of clarity, and she turned to see the brunette looking upwards, still grinning. Elizabeth looked up as well, and fought back a delighted, relieved laugh as she caught sight of three shapes spiraling through the air. “Because _they’re_ coming.”

The dragons were elegant as they landed, with the feral, leaping energy of fire and the cool intelligence of predators. They were all in semi-human form, feet touching the ground first before hands followed, steadying their landing as they rose to their full heights. Elizabeth stretched her hands out to them with a laugh, before noting one’s absence. “Hawk?”

“He’s no fighter.” Ban’s lilting voice came out in a half-amused rumble, drawing out the syllables of some words in a faint accent that she hadn’t noticed—gods, had it really just been the previous night? “We convinced him to stay behind.”

“We’re going to need the Nightmare, then.” She glanced between her human friends and her dragon allies, trying to gauge their reactions to each other. Luckily, the humans seemed more awed than afraid (and she could understand why; it seemed that all dragons held a strange feral loveliness, though of course Meliodas was the best of them), and of the dragons, the only one that seemed skittish was King, whose eyes had gone wide and whose hands were shaking as he stared at a puzzled-looking Elaine. She jolted a bit as she realized why King’s eyes had seemed so familiar—they were the _exact same_ as Elaine’s, down to the faintly oval-shaped pupils and the rich amber irises.

 _And that’s definitely not what you need to worry about now_. She slammed the lever to the Monstrous Nightmare’s cage down and stepped back as it rattled open, watching as the dragon stalked out slowly, looking nothing like the savage beast that had ravaged the arena earlier. Its head was raised, its scales a mix of scarlet and gold, black horns arching outwards. Scars decorated its chest, pink and fresh from when Meliodas and raked his claws across it with all the fury of a protective dragon. A flicker of grief passed through her at the thought. _My turn to protect him._

“I’m sorry about what he did to you,” she murmured. It cocked its head, and she could’ve sworn it was raising its eyebrows. “He was protecting me, but I need your help to protect him, now.”

A hum came from its throat, and Elizabeth watched (eyes wide, jaw dropped because she’d never dreamed, never imagined that these dragons were possibly of that higher level, never thought that they were near the top of the draconic hierarchy) as it—she—shifted, scales sloughing away to reveal short, silver-white, shoulder-length hair and shining yellow eyes. She was clad in rags, scarred and malnourished, but the silver-haired human had no doubt that she was still deadly. This very girl had almost killed her hours (was it really only hours?) before. “I didn’t know you were a shifter. Meliodas told me those in the ring were fully dragon.”

“Most are.” The girl shrugged, her voice bright and filled with energy despite her frail-looking frame. A grin crossed her face. “It is good to feel the sun on my skin again, but I assume you have need of my many talents.” She curtsied, before rising with a bright smile. “I’m Nadia.”

Despite herself, Elizabeth cracked a smile. “Nice to meet you.” She spun towards her friends, dragon and human alike, scrutinizing them. _There’s no telling whether they’ll form a bond like mine and Meliodas’s, but I should at least try to match up personalities that complement each other, right? Except I barely know Nadia…she seems pretty sunny and lively, though._ Her gaze landed on Gowther and she nodded, marching over to the glasses-clad boy and dragging him over to the Monstrous Nightmare.

The pink-haired boy’s eyes widened and he tried to step back, but Elizabeth’s grip tightened. “Trust me,” she told him, before shoving him closer to Nadia, who flicked her gaze to him in an almost birdlike motion. “And now trust her.” Gowther gave her a pleading look before glancing towards Nadia, who had gone utterly still, golden eyes wide and curious. Hesitantly, he moved forward, reaching out a shaky hand. The white-haired dragon blinked down at the open hand (Elizabeth realized with a start that he was doing her hand thing; a flicker of pride ran through her. That might be her greatest invention yet, aside from Meliodas’s tailfin) before kneeling and pressing her head to his hand. The girl watched hungrily, the part of her soul that was left open and wounded by the loss of her partner aching for this reminder of what a newborn connection felt like. Dragon and human’s eyes flew open, and she heard a noise that was half a laugh and half a sob burst free of Nadia’s throat. “Your name is Gowther.”

Elizabeth felt a stab of grief for what she’d lost pierce her heart, but she shoved it away and turned to the others. “Alright, who’s next?” She rubbed her hands together, eyeing King thoughtfully. _He’s got some kind of connection to Diane. Alright, let’s roll with that._ “Diane and King it is, then.”

The Deathsong looked delighted, whereas Diane looked more puzzled than anything else, but she made her way over to the hovering Deathsong anyway. Elizabeth didn’t waste time witnessing their bond, though she would’ve liked to (she could hear it, though; the sudden gasps as unfamiliar voices that felt mismatched and perfect and as warm as a hearth echoed in their minds, the shaky words whispered between newly-formed partners), instead eyeing the remaining four. _Mmm…Maybe Arthur and Ban would work? No, I can’t see that; Arthur’s mostly a rule follower and Ban...Ban looks like he’d set rules on fire and laugh. And I can actually see Arthur working well with Merlin, not to mention the fact that the only one who could possibly handle Elaine’s energy would be someone as generally easygoing as Ban._ “Ban, Elaine, you’re a pair. Arthur, Merlin, that leaves you two.” She didn’t bother watching them bond either, only grinning as she heard names murmured and voices laughing together.

As soon as they had formed the mindlink, Elizabeth marched over to Diane and King, lifting her chin as she raised her voice to the others. “Dragons, shift to full form and let your Riders mount up. We’re flying out to war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'LL SWIM AND SAIL ON SAVAGE SEAS WITH NE'ER A FEAR OF DROWNING (and also fly after your ass if you get kidnapped because that's what a good Eldrsal does)


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meliodas never thought he'd hear humans yell out in hope, of all things, when dragon wings stirred the air, but as he watches Elizabeth charge into battle with four equally insane newly-recruited Riders at her back, it just...happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I lied; we have like four chapters left and we're still going to see the takedown from Elizabeth's point of view! Yay!

The battlefield was utter chaos, the Viking fleet in flames and their catapults snapped like twigs. His brothers deviled the humans from above as his father laid waste to everything and everyone who tried to fight him. They were marked for slaughter, every last one of them, and all Meliodas could think was:  _I told you so._

_I._

_Freaking._

_TOLD YOU._

Okay, so it was childish and rude to find satisfaction in watching the humans scatter in terror, but honestly, he felt that it was alright if he’d tried to warn them of this very outcome. His father (a Red Death, an ugly dragon with six eyes and horns like mountain peaks and scales like the smog he lived in, gargantuan and cruel and ruthless) slammed a paw down and roared, a wordless roar of triumph and cruel pride. _He’s toying with them,_ the Night Fury thought in disgust, before letting out a low growl of annoyance as two blackish shapes (his brothers, those bastards, too attached to the Dragon King’s side to bother with things like _peace)_ swooped past, nearly invisible in the smoke, picking off Vikings here and there. _Fear tactics. Of course; the Dragon King can’t go five seconds without having to show off how much_ stronger _he is than everyone else._ He strained against his binds, shifting from dragon to human and back again, but to no avail. A low snarl of rage escaped him as he pulled against the chains, before flinching back as his father’s gray eyes found the ships. _Oh, stars…_

Fire billowed forth from his father’s jaws, and he recoiled with a strangled cry of horror, the sound choked by his muzzle, before tugging even more wildly on chains that _just wouldn’t break, damnit._ Smoke filled his lungs as he inhaled rapidly, sending him into a fit of wracking, heaving coughs. _Not fireproof on the inside._

 _I’m…going to die here._ It was inevitable now—either he’d suffocate from the smoke, or he’d drown when the boat burned away to ash, the chains dragging him down to the bottom of the sea. There was no possible way that he could survive this fight, unless someone decided to save him, which was impossible. _An enemy of all sides, with the only person who thinks I’m worth saving stuck on some wet heap of rock miles away, hurt and scared and alone. What a miserable way to die…but then again, it’s better than dying without anyone who cares for you at all._ He craned his head upwards and tried to suck in a breath of clean air, only to cough again as smoke and ash wound their way into his chest.

 _Elizabeth_. Elizabeth had to survive. Elizabeth had to stay safe, take over the remnants over her tribe when his father killed everyone here. Had to bring the peace they’d failed to create together. It was the logical, selfless thing to hope for, and Elizabeth was selfless. She’d want that.

Except he was selfish, and he wished fervently that she was here now, that he could apologize one last time, take one last flight. A cough wracked his body and he shuddered, shifting to human and yanking fruitlessly on the contraption clamped around his neck. Fire danced around him, taunting him—his scales were freaking _fireproof_ , but any dragon could succumb to their own flames if they were weak enough. A hiss ran through him as he watched the humans scatter, driven away by the absolute _idiots_ who were his blood family.

Meliodas closed his eyes, unwilling to watch the carnage his brothers and father were causing—and jolted upwards, spines bristling as a sensation unlike any other: that of a mind interlocking with his, sliding smoothly, perfectly into place, the stray ends intertwining with another’s. It was the feeling of becoming _whole,_ something he knew could only be caused by the arrival of one person.

 _Elizabeth._ Hope—hope, something he’d lost just a few seconds ago, that fragile flame that she ignited _every goddamn time_ —pulsed in his chest as he craned his head upwards, scanning the gray skies for her even as his mind hummed with her emotions (eagerness, mischief, ironclad determination, and the crazy, reckless energy he hadn’t seen from her since that first month). _ELIZABETH!_

There was no answer, just a buzzing sensation of love and amusement and, more terrifyingly, _fury._ The kind the Vikings prized so much, the kind he’d thought she didn’t have—the scarlet rage that normally clouded one’s vision, but cleared it to sharp, clear angles for others. The skies remained a deep gray, revealing nothing, but he could _almost_ hear something if he pricked his ears—

A blast that shook the ground pierced through the clouds and slammed into his father’s side, causing the King to stagger with an unintelligible scream of rage as amber covered his left eyes, hail and fire slamming into him in deadly synchrony. Four dragons punched through the smoke, rolling in perfect tandem, with—with _humans_ mounted on their backs.

And Elizabeth was _leading_ the charge.

“Elaine, Gowther, watch your backs!” Her voice rang out, clear and imperious, over the battlefield as the Vikings turned, those who’d survived his father’s first attack gazing up at the sky with awe and confusion in their eyes. “ _Move_ , Gowther!” She was pressed against King’s neck in front of Diane (he felt a quick flash of jealousy before stomping it down, instead watching with glee), hair streaming out behind her like a quicksilver flag, blue eyes blazing with determination. She looked every inch the war god her father was, a Valkyrie, a storm, fire and fury given human form.

She was freaking _glorious._

Meliodas felt like punching the air repeatedly, like roaring a victory cry, his thoughts a mess of _hell yes!_ and _WHAT is she DOING she’s going to get herself KILLED, that freaking IDIOTIC GENIUS GIRL._ He watched her as she straightened, sensing her intentions before she even spoke (it was odd, how he’d gone from being able to mentally communicate with her to not needing to say a word—it was somehow even more intimate a connection than the mindlink).

“Gowther, break it down!”

“Right!” The pink-haired boy riding a familiar Monstrous Nightmare straightened (his voice wasn’t as clear to him as Elizabeth’s, but in the sudden quiet of the battlefield, the Night Fury found that he could hear them all over the roar of the flames). “Heavily armored skull and tail made for bashing and crushing—steer clear of both! Small eyes, large nostrils, relies on hearing and smell!”

“Okay. Arthur, Merlin, hang in its blind spot and make some noise, keep it confused. Gowther, Nadia, you’re two of the fastest we’ve got; keep those two Night Furies busy. Ban and Elaine?”

“Yeah?”

Meliodas felt a flicker of pride as Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Find out if it has a shot limit. Make it _mad_.”

 **“That’s my specialty,”** the Woolly Howl grinned.

The four circling dragons split off, ducking and rolling and weaving around the Dragon King as Elizabeth, Diane, and King swept over the battlefield, her blue eyes searching through the flames before locking with his. The Deathsong soared over the burning ships and— _oh stars is she going to do what I think she’s going to do; Elizabeth don’t you dare—_ halted as Elizabeth jumped from its back, landing in the middle of the fire, right in front of him with a shout of “Go help the others!”

As soon as she wrenched his muzzle off, he shook his head, leaning back with a gasp. “What are you _doing_ , you’re going to get yourself _killed_ —”

“Just—stay—still,” she hissed, pressing a kiss to his lips; he fell silent with the shock of the sudden gesture of affection before glancing down at she started trying to lever the chains free. “I built these things; why can’t I _break_ them, damnit—”

The Night Fury opened his mouth to point out that maybe this was a _terrible_ idea and that Elizabeth should get back in the air and start fighting _now,_ because it was clear that, while amazing, the Riders had no freaking clue what they were doing, before gazing in horror as his father’s paw came crashing down and _flipped the ship over._ He felt Elizabeth’s terror shoot through him like adrenaline, but far more rage-inducing, and he reached for her with a gasp as they went from fiery heat to bone-cold waters.

He missed, and they crashed into the waters, sinking, sinking, sinking. Or, more accurately, _he_ was sinking, weighed down by his chains and the weird configurations of manacles and iron and wood. Elizabeth, beautiful, brave fool that she was, was trying to swim down to him. _You have to go,_ he pleaded as she yanked fruitlessly on his chains, eyes wide with panic as but her determination unyielding. _Elizabeth, there’s no way I’m going to survive; you have to live._

 _What’s the point in living if you’re dead?_ she shot back, but he could _feel_ her mind fading, sense the darkness of death beginning to cloud her mind.

It was _terrifying._

_Elizabeth—_

_I love you._ Her eyes were fluttering closed, hands slowly coming loose from the chains as her air ran out; her voice was soft, fading, fading, _gone._

 ** _No._** He reached for her with a gasp, sensing water burning in his lungs like ash as he sucked in a breath, but he couldn’t feel it past the deepening despair. _Elizabeth, you’re not dead, please don’t be dead_ —

The silhouette of _someone,_ a bear of a human radiating authority and strength in a way that he’d only seen matched by Elizabeth, grabbed the back of her tunic and hauled her free of the water. Meliodas grabbed at her with a soundless wail, the feeling of a deep, pulsing grief too much to bear as he felt the flicker of her life blink, blink—

And light up into that wildly spinning, burning star that he’d fallen in love with. His eyes flew open at the feeling of her mind reigniting, and he strained even harder against his bonds before freezing as the bear-like shadow suddenly reappeared, coming into the limited light of the depths.

_Bartra._

Meliodas stared at him, unable to think, unable to breath. The man’s steel-colored eyes flashed, and for a second the blond could read his intentions almost as clearly as he heard Elizabeth’s. _We both love her,_ he realized. _We both would do anything for her. But she’s like you are—selfless, too selfless for her own good._

So, when Bartra wrenched open the contraption that held him, the Night Fury shifted to his full form and hooked his claws into the back of the white-furred cloak the Chief wore, hauling him out of the water with a shriek of triumph and alighting on a rock. The cold air bit at his scales, but he flared his wings and reared back defiantly, teeth bared as he stared down his father, the dragon who couldn’t control him anymore—who wouldn’t be able to control _anyone_ when they were done with him. He dropped back onto all fours and glanced over at Elizabeth, grinning at her even as fire started to spark in his throat, flaring his prosthetic eagerly. _Let’s kill us a king._

She was dripping wet, her hair a sleek curtain of frost-gilded silver and her blue tunic darkened with the heaviness of the water, but there was high color in her cheeks and a new light in her eyes. A wild grin was on her face. “You got it, Meliodas.”

He pressed himself to the ground, wings half-open as she mounted up, ears pricking at the comfortingly familiar clinking of the machinery. A bellow of rage came from his father, and the Night Fury looked up gleefully to see Ban and the little flying girl darting around, irritating the hell out of him. Tensing, he prepared to leap into the air—and then Bartra grabbed Elizabeth’s arm.

“I-I’m sorry.” Meliodas pricked his ear-flaps slightly at the rough apology, glancing suspiciously at the man. While he’d been the one to release him, the Chief of the humans had also been the one to order him into such a state, and, more importantly, he’d hurt Elizabeth (emotionally, if not physically). “For everything.”

“Yeah, me too.” He had about a billion things to say about that comment—mostly things like “you have nothing to be sorry for” and “he’s an even bigger piece of garbage than I am”, but he held his tongue. This was Elizabeth’s _father_ , after all, not her _sire_. A man who had taken care of her, even if he was exasperated with her sometimes and didn’t understand how she thought. Someone who loved her enough to trust her judgement about an enemy he’d been taught from day one to fear.

 _He’s a lot like my mother,_ he realized. Oh, not so much in the appearance department nor even in their personalities; his mother had been beautiful, with a mane of inky hair and eyes of a vivid green, her scales dusted with silver and violet. She’d been wise and kind and funny, the most _human_ dragon he’d ever known, whereas Bartra was gruff and authoritative and proud. But both of them were fearless, both of them had a deadly intelligence, and both of them would do anything for their children.

He blinked, having zoned out of the conversation and then back in, alerted by the shrieking whine of one of his brother’s dives (probably Zeldris, judging by the higher pitch; the smaller ones always sounded a little squeakier), one that was cut off by a blast of amber and the unmistakable sound of a war-hammer smashing down. _Good to see those two are getting along,_ he thought, watching Diane and King swoop away and loop around to chase after Estarossa.

“I’m proud,” Bartra rumbled suddenly, and Meliodas shot him a startled look; his huge hands were still wrapped around Elizabeth’s arm, but eyes that had always seemed dull and icy were blazing with the warmth of what the humans called a “hearth”. “To call you my daughter.”

Elizabeth’s shock ran through him, followed by a low hum of love and fierce, abject joy, and Meliodas realized that that was all she’d ever wanted from her father. “Thanks, Dad,” she breathed.

 _I still haven’t forgiven him,_ the Night Fury told her, narrowing his eyes at the Chief; her laugh rang out in response, clear as a bell, and he grinned as they surged into the sky as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, NEXT chapter is the one where [spoilers if y'all haven't seen How To Train Your Dragon, which, if you're reading this, I doubt] Elizabeth loses her leg. Dun-dun-dun!


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War can rage on for years, for decades, for centuries, for millennia. It takes hundreds and thousands of people to wage war.  
> But it takes only two people to end it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B O O M

The feeling of cold air against her wet face was something that had always been a “wake-up call” for Elizabeth, but she didn’t need it this time around. Adrenaline raced through her veins like white-hot fire as she and Meliodas shot straight upwards, a ragged cheer rising from the other Dragon Riders (some already sent flying off their partners due to her admittedly hasty tactics, others just barely hanging on until they were in the air again). “They’re up!” she heard Diane shout, and a savage grin crossed her face as they brushed the clouds, the balm of her father’s pride and the Night Fury’s fiery heart banishing the bitter chill from her body.

They hung in the air for a moment, Meliodas’s lightning-dusted wings opening like great black sails as their eyes flicked over the battlefield. _Nadia and Gowther are down,_ she noted with a hint of dismay, _but at least Elaine and Ban got Arthur out of the danger zone before anything too bad went down._

 _Nadia?_ her Night Fury asked, and oh _gods_ she missed this, missed the shape of his thoughts and these lightning-fast conversations and the hum of his heartbeat and the thrill of the flight, missed it more than she missed coming up with genius crazy plans and going out to blow everyone away. Which was saying something, because using her absolute fucking genius-level intellect and rapier wit to stun people was her favorite pastime. _That’s the Nightmare, right?_

She also loved showing off, whether it be knowledge or aerial stunts or blacksmithing. _Yeah, she’s pretty cool. Clicked with Gowther almost instantly, but they’re still not the best fliers._

The corner of his mouth curved up in her peripheral as a laugh echoed through her mind. _Then I guess we’ll have to show them how it’s done, hm?_

 _You read my mind,_ she crooned, and with a shift of the tailfin they were soaring straight upwards again, the wind shrieking off of his wings. A scream alerted her to the fact that they were on a battlefield again, and her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the Dragon King, fanged mouth stretched wide and trying to suck a roaring King and a horrified Diane into its maw. Elizabeth bared her teeth in a snarl of annoyance, because no one— _no one_ —touched the people she decided were hers; no one was allowed to cause them harm, to endanger them, for they were hers and his and she _refused_ to lose anyone else. She could sense Meliodas’s rage as well, a low protective hum that echoed her own fury.

 _First lesson of dealing with dragons: once they decide to trust you, you become theirs—their pack, their ally, their family. And you don’t mess with a dragon’s family._ They shot across the sky, the deadly whine of the Night Fury ripping through the sky sending Vikings running, ducking, hiding from the terror that was the enraged unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself.

But the Vikings weren’t the ones who needed to be afraid.

 ** _NOW!_** At her mental roar, Meliodas parted his jaws and fired off a blast that slammed into his father’s mandible, eliciting a scream of rage from the monstrous creature and sending Diane flying off of King’s back with a raw scream. Elizabeth gritted her teeth as the panicked Deathsong started soaring after her, knowing full well that his species didn’t have the speed to catch her best friend before impact. _Ready?_

 _Like you need to ask._ He swooped up and flipped past King, diving lower, flying further, further, further— And the scream cut off abruptly. A jolt of worry for her friend ran through her and she glanced around wildly; nope, no sign of a falling, fearless Shieldmaiden. “Did you get her?” she demanded frantically. _I can’t lose her, not now, not when we’re finally friends again—_

Meliodas dipped his head for a moment, and she felt relief pour through the bond along with amusement. _She’s fine. Now that that’s handled, though…_

Her own relief mixed with his, but she flattened herself to his back as they skimmed just over the rocky beach, the Night Fury flipping Diane to her feet and arcing upwards. _Focus,_ she told herself fiercely as he powered upwards, black wings clawing their way higher and higher as she turned her gaze on the monster, scanning for weaknesses, mind racing as the components of some half-baked, brilliant plan wove together bit by bit. _Now we find our opening._

Elizabeth’s eyes (blue eyes, innocent eyes, eyes that she knew damn well didn’t belong to a warrior—but then, she wasn’t a warrior. She was _more_ ) flicked over the living gods-damned fortress that was the Dragon King. _Gowther read this thing like a book; it’s built like an iron-plated battleship—armored scales, six eyes to prevent being caught unawares, huge jaws so it can literally eat dissenters alive, a tail that looks like a mace…can it fly, though?_ A grim smile twisted her lips slightly as she recalled an old lesson Denzel had taught her, the one that had pushed her to build the tailfin in the first place. _Wings and tails, huh? Well, that tail is certainly not an option…_ But the wings were tattered, old and disused. It would certainly be no match for them in the air. “That thing has wings,” she murmured, and Meliodas let out a growl of glee as her plan entered his mind in crystalline clarity. “Let’s see if it can use them!”

He snapped out his wings rapidly and flipped, spinning expertly as they went into a perfect dive. _Give ‘em hell,_ Elizabeth found herself whispering to him, eyes narrowing in concentration. _Don’t hit it with everything, but hit the bastard hard._

There was no response, but she could feel the curl of savage amusement and utter determination blaze in the Night Fury’s thoughts, and a blast of plasma 1.5 times as large as the previous one smashed right into the beast’s side, toppling it. Grim satisfaction swept through the silver-haired Viking as it fell (like a mountain would fall, slow and heavy and agonizing). She shifted the tailfin rapidly, sending them arcing up and over sea-stacks; in her peripheral vision she could just make out the shadow of a tattered wing rising into the air, opening up. “Think that did it?” she muttered to him.

 _If the giant, heavy, slow-as-hell flier behind us is anything to go by,_ Meliodas snarked, and yup, that fucker was definitely behind them (she could feel the rotting heat of its breath as it heaved itself through the air, jaws snapping at its traitorous son), _then yeah, I think it did._

“Huh,” she remarked. Some part of her was screaming wildly, wondering why she wasn’t terrified. The truth of the matter was that she couldn’t _afford_ to feel fear, not now. No, all she could feel was the cold precision of battle coming over her, so different from the rage that Diane described once, long, long ago. “Well, we’ve toyed with it enough. Let’s show that fool of a King just what it means to _fly,_ huh?”

And they took off, streaking along the shore, weaving expertly in and out of rock configurations that the King smashed right through. A cheer, far brighter than the previous ragged one that came only from the Riders, echoed from the beach, but she didn’t spare them a glance. She needed to be at the top of her game to keep them both alive, with cutting focus and a plan in her head, and for that, she needed to make sure the only variables to really worry about were Meliodas living and the Dragon King dying.

Up above them, the sky was perfect—not cloudless blue, no; _blue_ was the color of sunny days and shining flights in peacetime. What she saw now were the skies of war, the smoky gray dark enough to hide them. _We rule the darkness,_ she reminded herself, and shifted the tailfin. “Okay, Meliodas, time to disappear!” He snapped his wings down and they shot upwards at blinding speed; she gritted her teeth as the clouds drew nearer, nearer, nearer. “ _C’MON, BABY!”_

Meliodas unleashed a screaming howl of fury and determination—and then they plunged into the clouds, invisible. Elizabeth could see the hulking shape of the Dragon King as it followed blindly into the shadows, flapping its huge wings noisily as they circled it in silence. _You’re insane,_ Meliodas told her after a moment, barely stirring as they carve a graceful turn in the cloak of the clouds. She could almost forget that there was a huge monster of a dragon that wanted them dead, could almost imagine looping off into the shadows to build a new life and never return.

Almost. Because as much as she’d hated Liones at times, it was still her home, and if there was one good thing that the people of that village had said to her, it was that she never gave up. On inventions, on a goal…or on people. She’d seen change happen, made change happen. But for the peace she dreamed of to come true, she’d have to end a war of three hundred years.

_I befriended a dragon, fell in love with said dragon, got that dragon up into the air after he believed he’d never fly again, became a Dragon Rider, inspired a group of other kids to join me, and rode out here to save my people. Killing a dragon the size of a mountain? Piece of cake in comparison._

_All the best people are,_ she replied at last. A flicker of dry amusement pulsed through him at that, and she leaned forward, resting her head on his warm scales. _If it goes wrong, if we die here…I’m proud to have ridden with you._

A low warbling noise, soft enough so that it only reached her ears, came from him, along with an outpouring of so much love that it made her heart ache. _I love you, Elizabeth._

 _I love you too._ She pressed a kiss to his black-and-gold scales before straightening slightly. _Now let’s kill ourselves a king._

He tucked in his wings in response, and Elizabeth bared her teeth as they swooped across the beast’s back, the pre-dive-bomb shriek building, building, building. The King heard them and turned slowly, clumsily to face then, but Meliodas unleashed his first blast and she whooped as it struck with an explosive force. A scream of pain and rage tore from their enemy’s throat as it snapped down its jaws, wide gray eyes hunting for them in the shadows.

 _But it’ll never find us,_ she thought with a grim smile, _not unless we want it to._ And they dove again, lighting the sky with a blast of fire and fury, looping over the King as they came in for another strike, and then another, and then another. They were relentless, merciless, without pity or regret for the deed they were about to commit. Vikings killed and dragons killed, after all. It was just in their nature—a nature she never thought she’d had, but had found to protect her people. One that she’d bury after this was over, hide away until she needed it again.

 _Elizabeth, focus!_ Her eyes snapped open (when had she closed them?) at Meliodas’s panicked shout, swearing internally as she heard the familiar flaming-gas hiss of the Stoker Class. She fiddled wildly with the tailfin, trying to roll out of the way as the flames filled the clouds, lighting the sky aflame and turning it into a gauntlet of death. “Damnit, damnit—watch out!” A rapid twist of the fin managed to pull them out of the way—almost.

 _Too slow, too slow,_ her mind chanted. She hardly needed to look behind her to confirm what she already knew—the tailfin was on fire, and they were on the clock. _Now or never._ “Okay, time’s up,” she breathed, tightening her hands on the saddle. “Let’s give this a shot.” _Trust me, Meliodas?_

_Always._

They arced upwards, flipping over as the Night Fury shrieked a challenge to his father, ducking under his wings with a snarl (she fought back a thrill of terror at how sloppy the maneuver was, knowing full well that things would only get worse from there). “C’mon!” she roared, fully aware of how she must look—blazing eyes with flames reflected in them, stained with soot and burned by fire, silver hair a smoke-stained tangle. _Intimidating. Dangerous._ “Is that the best you can do?”

Enraged, the Dragon King opened his jaws, preparing to snap down on them. She gritted her teeth, feeling the drag on the tail increase, fear and adrenaline pulsing through her veins as they shot through, burning tail like a beacon in the shadows. They whipped around, going into a dive that felt nothing like the perfectly controlled one the two of them executed so many sunny days ago, but somehow just as exhilarating. The Dragon King followed them into the dive (she could hear the hiss of wind through the holes they’d just blasted into its wings), and she chanced a look over her shoulder to see gaping jaws and gray eyes burning with hatred. A trumpeting roar came from its throat, blasting them with hot air and the sickly-sweet scent of the gas all Stoker Class dragons ignited. Meliodas’s worry pulsed into their bond and she managed to shove words past the chill of fear running through her. “Stay with me, Meliodas, we’re good, just a little bit longer—”

They were almost free of the clouds now, plummeting like an arrow shot from the heavens; the metal frame that was all that remained of the beloved tail creaked as she tried to move it. _No other way out,_ she realized, closing her eyes as the hiss of gas in the King’s throat started creeping into her ears. “Hold, Meliodas,” she breathed, feeling the bright force of his plasma building within him, the glow of pale violet in his mouth. The hissing noise built to a crescendo and she opened her eyes with a roar of **_“NOW!”_**

Meliodas flipped over, green eyes meeting his father’s narrowed gray, and shot a perfect blast into the unignited gas of the Red Death’s throat. Almost immediately, reflexively, the King swallowed its flame and its son’s as well. Huge holes ripped into weakened wings as the beach drew closer, closer, the heavy scent of death and raw power hanging like poison in the air as the wind swept them through an ever-widening tear in the membrane. The dragon—the w _orld_ —burst into flame.

 _Even in death, the Dragon King wants to take its enemies with it,_ she realized, crouched low over Meliodas’s back, fear pounding at her as they raced up the spines of the dying King’s back. _We’re good,_ she gasped to him as the sky opened above them. _We’re good, we’re free, we’re going to make it—_

Then the club-like tail, the one she’d so fucking _cleverly_ avoided, the one variable that she’d thought had already been accounted for, loomed up out of the flames. “No,” she whispered, voice cracking as her partner breathed words of love and light and hope into her, fear tinging his voice. She flexed the frame of the tail as his wings churned at the air to no avail, blue eyes widening with terror as her doom crashed down. _“NO!”_

And Elizabeth was falling, plummeting from sky to flame like Icarus, no longer winged, no longer a master of the sky, nothing more than an ordinary Viking girl.

Elizabeth was closing her eyes, the heat of the fire wrapping around her like a deadly blanket, choking on smoke, wishing for just a little more time.

Elizabeth was dying, suffocating in the inferno, the fading image of green eyes and wild blond hair imprinting on her mind as she felt arms and wings wrap around her, giving herself up to whatever Valkyrie had come to take her away.

* * *

 

**_“ELIZABETH!”_ **

Bartra stumbled through a storm of ash and flickering, dying flames, eyes searching the battlefield frantically for his youngest daughter, the one he had considered the weakest, the most in need of protection. _I was wrong. I was so wrong._ Fear was choking him, making normally steady hands shake. _Caroline, my love, please don’t let her join you just yet. I know you want to see her, but I—I cannot lose her._

He turned on the spot, ignoring the murmurs of his fellow warriors as they accepted that Elizabeth was dead, that they’d never see those smiles that lit the world again, never watch her trot through the village, tired and soot-stained, but clutching some revolutionary invention—and froze. Lying on the shore was a small shape with huge wings, black like a shadow and sleek as a blade. _Her dragon._ “Elizabeth,” he whispered, limping over to the shape.

 _He_ was sprawled over the rocks, bleeding from his temple, blond hair stained with ash and blood, wings spread in a position that could not have possibly been comfortable, arms hidden and tail hanging limp over a boulder. The fin that Elizabeth had built for him was ruined, just a few pieces of shattered metal remaining. A low moan, a sound more dragon than human, came from his throat as he stirred, shifting onto his side with a weak gasp of pain. Bartra watched, paralyzed, as the great creature (a noble beast, a warrior as kind and brave as any human, one that Elizabeth had convinced to help a people that wanted to kill him) breathed slowly, painfully. He wasn’t even aware that he’d fallen to his knees until he felt the sharp-edged stones of the land dig into his knees, grief choking him like a vise. Behind him he could hear Veronica sobbing, Margaret’s low keening, hear the crunch of gravel under boots halt as Diane froze, as Arthur and Gowther tried to restrain a grieving Elaine from flying to her friend. He could hear the dragons, too, each of them in their human-like forms, the murmurs that passed between them, as a people that had only ever ridiculed his daughter bowed their heads in grief for her, for a hero who’d given her life for theirs.

“I did this,” Bartra murmured, and he felt tears welling in his eyes. _Oh, daughter…_ She had come early into the world, so tiny and fragile, never growing as much as the others. _I should’ve known,_ he thought, suppressing a grief-stricken cry. _I said you’d be the strongest of us…and you were._

The dragon stirred at that, a low noise coming from his throat as green eyes opened, shockingly human. A tiny huff blew his blond bangs out of his face, those piercing emerald eyes fixed in Bartra, watching, waiting. There was a hard look in his eyes, gaze flashing like fire as he watched him. The Chief gazed back at him, the hollow despair in his stomach only growing. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The Night Fury’s eyes softened, and Bartra felt his breath hitch as he unfurled his wings, reluctantly pulling his arms free from the curled, burnt shape of—

“Elizabeth!” With a gasping breath, the Chief took his daughter in his arms, panic overriding the small logical voice that whispered at him to _be gentle, be careful, treat her as if she’s fragile._ He pushed her hair out of her face, trailing his fingers over her soot-stained skin before pressing his ear over her heart, praying that he’d hear something, anything…

A beat, soft but strong, resounded. And then another, and another, and another, a steady rhythm pulsing as her heart thudded on, the beat stronger than anything he’d ever heard. A sob of relief escaped him as he clutched her to him. “She’s alive,” he declared, voice ringing over the crowds along the beach. His eyes drifted to the dragon, who had pushed himself into a sitting position, a small smile on his face. “You brought her back alive!”

The Night Fury blinked at him, looking suddenly very tired and very young. “Of course.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “She’s everything to me.”

Bartra looked into those green eyes, ones that shone with humanity and utter love for the human that was his daughter, and he believed it. Reaching out with one hand, he grabbed the dragon and pulled him into an embrace, holding him next to his daughter. The Night Fury stiffened for a second, before burying his head in his shoulder, hands that seemed too small to kill as many people as he had clinging to him.

“Thank you,” he told Meliodas, and the dragon (a child, really—a child forced to grow up too soon, a child forced to become a soldier and a killer, still the same age as his daughter despite all he’d done) let out a choked laugh, “for saving my daughter.”

“Well,” Denzel muttered from his left, and Bartra shot his brother a sharp look. The man raised his hands placatingly, eyes darting down to Elizabeth’s left leg (mangled and burned, with teeth and claws marks in it; no doubt that was where Meliodas grabbed to pull her into the fireproof safety of his wings and no doubt the dragon was going to blame himself for what must happen). “Most of her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch, guys, home stretch


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some part of him aches as he hears the news: "They're going to have to amputate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on the shorter side, but full of fluff and angst. Enjoy

Meliodas and pain were age-old friends, though their relationship wasn’t strictly “friendly”. It was more along the lines of him trying frantically to avoid the latter, which liked to surprise him at odd and inconvenient moments. He’d grieved Mara and wrestled with guilt to this day, had screamed and sobbed like a hatchling when his mother vanished off the face of the earth, had raged at the world when his last freedoms had been stolen from him. He’d flown through fire and felt the deep-seated guilt that came from killing haunt his every step, insisting that he did not deserve what few joys in his life remained.

None of it compared to the agony of watching Elizabeth fight for her life, trapped in her own bed and struggling to push back against a slew of injuries that would’ve down the strongest of dragons. _Not even close._ Every time he entered her mind, he was met with a wall of flame and agony, with ice and the feeling of falling, sinking, _dying_. She stirred sometimes, but her face was either slack or contorted with agony. She was, for the first time, unreachable to him.

“Meliodas?” He jerked his head upwards, glancing at the amber eyes of the two elder Liones sisters, narrowing his eyes at Veronica. _No way in hell have I forgiven you_.

Judging from the look in the middle sister’s eyes, she returned the sentiment. Margaret gave her a warning look, perching on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed and twining her fingers with her slack, pale ones. “We just heard back from Jenna and Zaneli,” she said softly, and Meliodas stiffened, flattening his ear-flaps to his skull as he swung his tail (his _crippled_ tail, the precious prosthetic that the silver-haired girl had built for him burnt away to ash and twisted spears of metal) into his lap, draping it across his knees. Hope and fear warred within him; the Elders were apparently the best healers in the tribe, and they’d been taking care of Elizabeth for the short week since the war ended, trying to treat the infection in her leg before it spread to the rest of her body. Their verdict meant the difference between life and death, joy and grief, loss and gain.

Margaret, apparently taking his silence for permission to continue, took a shaky breath. “They need to amputate.”

 _Amputate_. The word bounced around in his head, a cruel echo that sounded like the metallic clang of a bell following it. They would cut off her leg, take away her ability to walk, so that she’d continue to breathe. To live. “…When?”

“Today,” she replied, squaring her shoulders with a shaky breath. “But she’d be dead if you hadn’t saved her, so thank you.”

Veronica scoffed. “I don’t see why you’re thanking it, since it’s the one who hurt Ellie in the first place.”

“ _Veronica_!”

“It’s the truth!” He blinked in surprise (the worst kind of surprise, the dull sort that made you think "ah, something's happening" but kept you separate from it) at her as she rounded on him, eyes blazing. “If you hadn’t gotten involved with her, she’d never have gotten hurt, never have had the damn idea of trying to help a dragon. Trying to _fly_ on one, of all things—what a fucking _stupid_ —”

“Never gotten hurt?” And he was rising to his feet, compelled by a vicious, savage rage he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, staring her down. Ire roused, anger palpable, Veronica suddenly looked quite small to him, despite the fact that she towered over him. “What, so she would’ve provided weapons for all of your damn warriors, fighting a fucking war that, by the way, we _ended_ , for the rest of her life? Been condemned to a life she hated where her family was distant and no one gave a shit about her ideas despite the fact that she’s a born strategic genius and the only one who recognized that what _you_ were doing wasn’t working? She would’ve died inside every day, a fucking outcast, and you would’ve let it happen because she smiled at you and told you she was _fine_.” He wasn’t even aware that he was shouting until his voice echoed off the walls at him, and yet he couldn’t stop—the words, horrible and cruel, were pouring from him. “She’s the bravest, most intelligent, kindest person I’ve ever met, and you would’ve shoved all that kindness and courage into a box simply because she _wasn’t like the rest of you_ , and then told yourself that as long as she wasn’t in any physical pain, everything would be perfect.” Plasma seared the back of his throat as he stared her down, breathing hard. Veronica glared right back at him, hand twitching towards the hilt of her sword, before she spun on her heel and stormed out.

Margaret sighed behind him and Meliodas stiffened, glancing back at her before realizing that he was still poised to attack, wings raised and teeth snapped out to their full, deadly lengths. “That was out of line,” he muttered (lied through his fucking teeth, more like _; I was definitely spot-fucking-on with that)_.

“No, you were honest.” She shook her head sorrowfully, letting go of Elizabeth’s hand and coming over to stand next to him. “Ronnie always hated dragons more than the rest of us--she was with Mother when she was carried off, back when Ellie was just a baby, and her teachers used to say that her emotions got in the way of her actions. I’ve been worried about her for some time now. She’s become so bitter, and I’m worried she’s going to try to disrupt what Elizabeth built.”

 _What she built._ He perched on the chair next to her bed, twining his fingers with hers. Her skin was feverishly hot, even to his scale-covered hands, and he squeezed her palm gently, wishing that her fingers would curl around his again. _You made the first step, and then so many more. You brought us peace_. “I don’t think she’ll try anything—not until she wakes up.” _Because she has to. Because there’s no point in living without her, peace or war_. “She hates me, but she loves Elizabeth.”

A hand, gentle and small, but calloused from war (just like all of their hands, every single one of them burnt and blemished and scarred in one way or another) came down on his shoulder. “Ellie’s always been different,” Margaret said softly. “I guess it just took a different pair of eyes to realize that _different_ meant _special_.” She sighed, dropping it to her side and kissing her sister’s forehead before slipping out, following Veronica down the stairs from the silver-haired girl’s loft.

 _Special._ A choked laugh bubbled from his lips and he stood, still gripping Elizabeth’s hand. “Hear that?” he whispered. “Special. One of a kind, amazing, incredible—they’re talking about _you_ , stupid human. You’d better wake up so you can hear it for yourself.”

She didn’t stir, didn’t even twitch, the only sign of life the tiniest rise and fall of her chest. He could heart her heartbeat, slow and steady, but faltering as the infection grew. _I’m sorry._ “The Elders are going to amputate soon,” he continued shakily. “And I wish there was another way, a way you could survive without losing anything, but there isn’t, and I’m so, so sorry.” Meliodas shook his head slowly. “You probably don’t care—well, not much. You’re more selfless than I am. You don’t really care how you suffer so long as the people you care about are safe. And knowing you, you’ll be in the forge day and night making prosthetics for the both of us, and revolutionizing a host of new fields as well. They’re talking about putting you in charge of those four you flew out with and calling you the Dragon Riders, an elite squad of humans and dragons. Just picture that, huh? We could—I dunno, we could finally fly, but with the others, in broad daylight. We could even set up a base outside of the Archipelago, where no one else has gone before, discover all sorts of new dragons, have loads of adventures…just like we dreamed of.”

He closed his eyes, leaning over her and willing himself not to cry. “I know it probably seems a lot easier to leave all of this behind right now and sink into the darkness, but…gods, Elizabeth, please don’t.” Meliodas felt a traitorous tear slip down his cheek and bit his lip, resisting the urge to sniffle. He was surprised that his voice was at all steady as he spoke:

“If you disappear from my life, I’ll have no reason to live…so please. _Live for me.”_

He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, head bowed, listening to her heartbeat and waiting with bated breath for it to slow or speed up. It didn’t, staying at that slow, steady, _worrying_ pace, and he listened to it until someone trotted up behind him.

“Captain?”

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting Merlin and getting—and getting Diane, of all people. “What did you call me?”

The brunette gave him a rueful smile, King hovering protectively by her side in full human form (which was something Meliodas had never done—the full human form, not the protective hovering. He’d done plenty of that). It was weird to see his friend without wings and horns, to see what looked to be an ordinary human except for the fact that he was _flying_. “Well, we’re becoming a team, aren’t we? I figured that we humans could call you that, since we’re on the team as well, and you and Elizabeth are leading it.”

He blinked in confusion. “What...you mean the Dragon Riders?”

King scoffed, and his gaze traveled up the levitating Deathsong, who arched his eyebrows. “What? It’s a stupid name—too on the nose. We’ve got a better one: The Seven Deadly Sins.”

“…There’s literally _ten_ of us.”

“Well, we’re not _all_ going to be named along the line of Sins,” Diane huffed, crossing her arms. “But me, King, Ban, Merlin, Gowther, and you, that’s six of the seven. Envy, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Lust, and Wrath—since we’re, y’know, the best so far. We were thinking that maybe Pride could be Elizabeth’s, but Merlin shot us down, said there was someone we hadn’t met yet meant for that. Arthur and Nadia are still trying to come up with something interesting, but Elaine decided she’s going to be called the Guardian Saint.”

Meliodas shook his head again, a flash of traitorous amusement passing through him at the idea of his friends arguing over names. _Of course they would_. “Did you come here just to tell me that?”

Diane shook her head, casting a fond look at Elizabeth. “We heard about the amputation,” she admitted quietly. “We were trying to think of what we could do for her, and we were poking around in her workshop…”

“And long story short, Gowther stumbled across these.” King unrolled a sheaf of papers and the blond stood, peering at them curiously. It was a prosthetic, but unlike the ugly-but-serviceable wooden ones that most humans used, it was metal, designed with a sort of spring to mimic how muscles actually worked. The lines of it were sleek and beautiful, so clearly Elizabeth’s work, and he laughed despite himself. _You were already working on the prosthetic business when I met you, huh_. “We’re going to make this for her,” the Deathsong went on. “Ban apparently knows a little bit about making weapons, since he used to steal them, and Nadia and Merlin definitely have the firepower to heat the metal.”

“I think they’ve already gotten started,” she added with a small laugh. “Wanna help out?”

 _See, Elizabeth? I’m not the only one who’s going to miss you, so you have to come back, okay?_ Meliodas grinned at them reluctantly, before giving Elizabeth’s hand a last tight squeeze and shifting—for the first time—into full human form. He stumbled a bit as his tail and wings and ear-flaps vanished, staring down at hands that because as pale and unmarred as those of the human next to him, shivering as the fire within him dropped to a low, steady hum. _This is what you’ve done, Elizabeth—made it so that I can drop my guard fully around humans. I just want you to wake up and see it for yourself_.

He crossed his arms and gazed up at the staring dragon and Rider, before shaking his head with a laugh as he trotted past them. “What are you waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, my lovelies.


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Elizabeth went to sleep, she was at war.  
> When she wakes, she's...not. And it's so much better than she could've imagined.

Waking up from unconsciousness was something Elizabeth found herself doing quite often. Most of the time, it was abrupt and cold and the pain would come rushing back, and she’d groan and stand up and glance around. If it was in the forest, she’d open her notebook (where did she put her notebook, anyway? Did she have it when she—she…wasn’t she _dead?_ And wait, did this mean she _wasn’t_ dead?), take a look at her fantastic and incredibly useful map—which she’d start making for other people in the village, because she couldn’t _possibly_ be the only one who got lost---and start making her way back to the village. If she (for some bizarre reason) was in the village, she’d pray quietly that no one saw, snark off at anyone who dared comment (the erratic sleep patterns of complete and utter geniuses were the least of the things that should be questioned), and start heading back home before her father found out. And when she’d first met Meliodas _(Meliodas Meliodas was he okay was he hurt had her plan gotten him killed had he died was she_ alone), she’d ended up waking and walking in a daze for hours until her—gods-damn _brilliant_ —plan snapped into her head.

This time, though, it was different. Beyond different, in fact, and heading right into Just Plain Old _Weird_.

First off, she didn’t wake up abruptly. No, this awakening was slow, gentle, the aches and flashes of pain coming to her softly. It was almost as if they’d been mostly healed already, which was worrying—how long had she been out? Were the dragons okay? What if the Riders had been—had been _executed_ when she was out and being freaking _useless_ , she’d _kill_ whoever hurt them, whoever hurt _him_. Aside from that sudden burst of half-formed worry, though, it was a peaceful sort of wakeup.

Secondly, she was inside. She _never_ came to inside, not even in the forge (because falling asleep didn’t count there; that wasn’t passing out or getting knocked unconscious. That was just her body deciding to waste time at inopportune moments). And yet now, she was inside somewhere…her house? Her loft? No, not the loft, it couldn’t be, the rafters were too far away and the faint warmth of the fire too close. Which meant that she was in the main room of her family’s house, in a soft, warm bed—a bed that someone had to have put her in. _Maybe it was Father?_ she thought—hoped, really.

And thirdly, there was someone—someone familiar, someone whose fuzzy blurry-edged shape soon sharpened into a familiar, glorious image of golden hair and green eyes.  Green eyes that blinked down at her with infinite tenderness and infinite exhaustion, green eyes that had no black scales surrounding them at all. The familiar shadows of his magnificent forty-eight-foot wingspan were missing as well, the ear-flaps that poked out of unruly blond strands gone, the patches of scales that decorated his hands somehow vanished into thin air. Her mind jumped to the worst possible things (skinning him for his hide? Cutting his wings off to sell them on the black market?) before she managed to comprehend that there were no wounds on him—in fact, he looked reasonably well-cared for. And he looked human, too, which was both sort of weird and sort of…nice. Nice, because while she’d known that he had this form, she’d also known that he hated revealing any vulnerability, and there were few beings more vulnerable than a human.

 _Case in point_ , she thought with a wince as her bruised muscles protested the movement, propping herself up on her elbows. Her eyes drifted back to those unseeing green ones (had he even realized she was awake yet?), and she found herself smiling. _And here I thought I’d never see you again._ “Hey, stubborn dragon.”

His head jolted up immediately, eyes widening, and he whipped his head around so fast that she could practically feel the whiplash shoot through his neck. He didn’t even wince, though, just staring at her with those wide, wide emerald eyes.

And then, finally (finally, _finally_ , just when she thought he was about to run out of the room or do his weird Night-Fury-shadow-puddle-invisibility thing), he reached out and hugged her. Hugged her not as if she was fragile and easily broken, but as if she was perfectly fine. Honestly, there wasn’t much more she could’ve asked for—except maybe a kiss. “Stupid human,” Meliodas muttered against her, and she twined her arms around him and laughed. “Don’t _ever_ worry me like that again, you idiot.”

“Why, what happened?” Her brow furrowed. “And for that matter, why are we in my house—and why am I downstairs?” Elizabeth chewed on her lip thoughtfully, trying to think of all possible reasons. It wasn’t hard—she was a genius, after all, the best (and, okay, _first_ ) Liones had ever seen. Thinking and then doing was her skill set, even if she sometimes forgot to put the two together _. I should’ve been treated in my room if my wounds weren’t too serious, unless they thought I’d have trouble walking…_

She noticed belatedly that Meliodas had drawn back and glanced over at him. His eyes (and his mind, she realized, brushing against the warm swirl of thoughts and emotions) were filled with love and worry and trust and hope and…loss. “Did someone die?” she whispered. _Veronica—Margaret—Father—Diane—Elaine—_

“You,” he replied softly. “Almost.” A haunted look flickered in those emerald eyes. “I…had to grab your leg so I could pull you into my wings—” _Fireproof,_ she remembered dazedly, _they’re fireproof, but not on the inside._ “It was your left leg, which had already taken the brunt of F—the Dragon King’s final attack, but it…”

“It what?” She leaned forward worriedly (cold metal brushed against her right leg and she narrowly resisted the urge to jump in surprise, pushing back the inkling of icy suspicion growing in her mind. She knew very well what that might mean; she was anything but stupid, but she was also stubborn and she didn’t want to believe it). “Did I…did you get hurt?”

A choked, disbelieving laugh came from his lips, green eyes (the one thing that still looked wild, feral on this strangely human version of him) flicking to her. “Selfless,” he said in disbelief. “You’re stupidly selfless, you know that?”

“I resent your word choice—” She’d heard too many people call her a “stupid girl” (and other, worse things) for not thinking like them enough, and the injustice still rankled— “but I’ll admit that, at least.” She shrugged, wincing slightly as her stiff and aching body resisted, and gave him a self-deprecating grin. “Better that than selfish, right?”

Meliodas blinked at her, emerald eyes unfathomable, before standing and holding out his hands. “The world’s changed,” he murmured, and she saw a tiny smile, not quite sad but not quite _happy_ , curl his lips upwards. “Come out and see it, dragon girl?”

 _Dragon girl. I like that._ She swung her legs out of bed, preparing to stand and—

_Oh._

_Oh, no._

Her right leg braced against the ground, her foot (still shoe-clad, in soft furry slippers that were only brought out during winter and illnesses and when it was especially cold) resting lightly on the solid wooden floor. Her left leg, however…well, there wasn’t much left of it. _No_ , she thought, staring dumbly down at the metal prosthetic strapped to her leg (one that looked familiar, as if it was one of her very own designs), _there isn’t much left at all_. She looked up at Meliodas in askance, unable to think, to feel, to _move._

A wave of contrition and love wrapped around her, pouring through the mindlink with the warmth of sunlight, and Elizabeth watched as he shifted, with a fluid ease that made her jealous (because when, now, would she ever move fluidly again? How would she walk, run, fly?), to a form far more familiar to her. He twitched an ear-flap at her, a slight smile on his face, before taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. She tried to resist the pull, forcing herself to remain limp and heavy, but the strength of a Night Fury (even an incredibly short one like Meliodas) was nothing to scoff at, and she found herself balancing unsteadily.

He took a step back, pulling her along with him; she stumbled forward and let out a yelp as she fell, her left leg (weak, weak, just like everyone said, _weak_ ) buckling underneath her and sending her to the floor—almost. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her up, wings that looked like shadows and were as warm as sunshine surrounding her for a moment. _You’re Elizabeth Liones_. His thoughts rang in her ears, and she straightened a bit, squaring her shoulders.

 _I am Elizabeth_ fucking _Liones. I’m crazy, I’m inventive, and I don’t believe I can die. I survived dragon raids, I survived falling, I survived the Dragon King. Like hell am I gonna crumble now because of a metal leg. Besides…_ Elizabeth shot a glance at her partner’s tail, watching the single fin swish across the ground as he helped her limp (each step becoming easier and easier, until she could almost bear her own weight) towards the door. _I’m not the only one who’s faced this._

Meliodas glanced sideways at her as she reached for the doorknob and grinned, flicking his tail upwards so that the fin flared out. “We match.”

Elizabeth glanced at the—no, _her_ , it was hers now—metal leg, her mind already racing to draw up schematics and improvements ad the slightest of tweaks that could make everything run a thousand times smoother before shooting a look at his ostentatiously prosthetic-less tail. Her brain and heart jumped at the idea of creating a new fin, one more streamlined, one that could make him as fast as a bolt of flame and as maneuverable as a streak of greased lightning. She looked him in the eyes, saw a genius and a heart that reflected her own, and smiled. “We match,” she agreed, and pushed open the door.

A pair of snarling jaws waited and she shrieked, slamming the door shut on reflex. _What in the FUCK—_

“Maybe you should head out alone,” Meliodas suggested; she spun to shoot an incredulous look at him, opening her mouth to protest and stopping short at the sight of a glint of unmistakable mischief in his eyes. With a laugh, he yanked open the door again and shoved her out into the sunlight. _Ow, okay, don’t shove the invalid? Thor almighty…_ Elizabeth cast a glare over her shoulder at the closed door, before shaking her head and taking a hesitant step forward, gasping as something streaked past her.

 _Something_ being a white-blue Woolly Howl with a tiny blonde girl mounted on its back, spinning wildly as they shot upwards. Elizabeth felt her jaw drop as more dragon riders—Diane, Arthur, _Gowther_ —shot by, a few other, familiar faces following behind on smaller dragons. People who weren’t riders, who had killed dragons, following her friends as they darted and spun through the air (if a bit more hesitantly). Nightmares, Zipplebacks, and Nadders paraded through the streets next to hesitant warriors and eager children, and she watched in awe as a giggling little girl with pink hair pulled up in twin tails was gently picked up by a Hobblegrunt (as though she were a kitten being lifted by a doting mother cat) and deposited safely on its neck. A battle-scarred soldier carefully placed his hand on a Grim Gnasher’s shoulder, before breaking into a grin as the dragon nuzzled him cheerfully. The scene was too good to be true, which meant…well, it meant that it probably wasn’t true at all. “I knew it,’ she muttered under her breath. “I’m dead.”

A laugh that couldn’t possibly belong to the person it sounded like it came from echoed behind her, and a warm hand clapped her on the shoulder. “No, but you did give it your best shot,” her father hummed, approval radiating off of him and warmth in his eyes, along with a hint of disbelief. She thought she understood why—peace finally had come, and she’d found a way that didn’t result in total annihilation of either humans or dragons. It was impossible by the very definition of impossibility, but here it was, and it had come at the cost of…well, nothing but her leg and Meliodas’s tailfin. A small price indeed. “What do you think?” he added, gesturing at the gloriously tranquil scene—well, no, it couldn’t possibly be tranquil with Elaine and Ban pulling wild stunts in midair and shrieking like maniacs (she and Meliodas, of course, were a _thousand_ times better and would definitely have more time to practice spins and tricks and all sorts of cool things), but it was _peaceful_ —as if he were afraid she wouldn’t like it.

“I don’t have the words,” she whispered finally, turning her face toward the sun with a half-mad laugh. And it was true; for one of the first times in her life (she’d always been verbose, always eager to speak even if it would get her in trouble), she was struck dumb by…this. Her accomplishment, a change she’d wrought. It was insane to think about, but it was true. She and Meliodas had brought down that monster called the Dragon King, no one else. This victory was _theirs_.

And as if to cement that, people looked at her and _cheered._ They rushed to greet her, not to avoid her, shaking her hand and laughing and thanking her and apologizing and this, this moment seemed to be everything she’d lived for. Elizabeth laughed along with them and stretched her arms out, letting them shake her hands and hug her and say their apologies, before glancing up as a shadow fell over the small area. King reared back, letting Diane slide from his neck, before shifting to semi-human and hovering protectively behind his rider as she shoved her way to the front of the crowd. Elizabeth grinned at her best friend, watching purple eyes light up and—

“OW!” She recoiled indignantly as a powerful punch (gods- _damn_ , had she gotten even _stronger_ while Elizabeth had been languishing in useless unconsciousness? Ugh, this just wasn’t fair) slammed into her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at Diane, trying to scowl despite the grin relentlessly tugging at her lips. “What was that for?”

“Scaring us,” her friend shot back, and a snort came from her. Diane rolled her eyes and looked at King, who greeted her every action with the usual mix of approval and fond protectiveness (Elizabeth was already thinking of appointing them second-in-command, provided that her father actually allowed their crazy little group to stick together). Elizabeth glanced between the two of them, raising her eyebrows, before letting out an “oof” as she was suddenly engulfed in a hug. “And that’s for everything else.”

King landed next to her as Diane pulled away (her mind was already whirling with an overload of emotions and ideas and _AGH_ , there was so much to _DO_ and it was so _EXCITING_ —), smiling a little bit shyly as he deposited something into her arms, something light and strong and bound in leather. A new tailfin, she realized in awe, staring at it; the thin fabric stretched over the metal rods was taut and strong, and painted a brilliant shade of cobalt. Adorning it was the symbol on an earring her father had given her, one she thought she’d lost—the sun, the moon, and the stars. “Welcome home,” they chirped in unison, both beaming.

She laughed and reached through the mindlink to alert Meliodas. He answered barely a moment later, springing through the doors in full dragon form and bouncing off the backs of several unfortunate Vikings before shifting back, tail swinging smugly behind him. “I told you so~” he sang.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but she felt herself smiling so wide it hurt. “You did,” she agreed, and she bent down and kissed him on the mouth. She could _feel_ his brain short-circuiting at the sudden contact and beamed. _Knowing just how to cut off a certain mischievous Night Fury’s thought process…I’ll add that to my repertoire of utterly amazing skills._ She could hear people wolf-whistling, Diane clapping for her with a whoop as King muttered things under his breath, but she only broke the kiss when her father coughed from behind them. She glanced at him, noticing for the first time the affection that shone in his eyes, and smiled up at him. “Permission to fly, Chief?” she inquired (she figured Meliodas wouldn’t do it, judging from the dazed look in his eyes).

Her father let out a rumbling laugh. “Permission granted, Elizabeth.”

* * *

 

Meliodas was in full Night Fury form, a bolt of shadow and lightning and brilliance against the mundane landscape. Elizabeth swung herself into the saddle, prosthetic clicking perfectly into place, as if it had been made to fit. She glanced back and checked the tailfin (which looked magnificent) before looking over at Diane and King. The Deathsong backed up a few paces, a clear gesture for them to go first, and she could feel a fierce and wild look taking over her face.

 _Let’s go,_ she hummed into his mind; he gave a wolfish grin and they shot forward, swooping above the roofs of the houses of Liones with ease. King surged forward after them, Diane whooping as the race began. Gowther and Nadia joined them as they swept over an alley, Ban and Elaine diving down to join them, followed by Merlin and Arthur. They arched over the docks, under bridges, racing each other to the finish line—and at the last second, she shifted the fin, sending the pair of rider and dragon spiraling upwards. Up, reaching for the clouds, for the sun, for the stars, for the limits they’d surpassed and would never allow to hold them back. For freedom, for glory, for a host of new adventures just across the sky.

“Let’s go,” Elizabeth breathed, and Meliodas roared as they shot up, up, up and into the free skies.

 _“This is Liones. It rains nine months of the year and hails the other three. Any food grown here is tough, and tasteless. The people that grow here are…even more so. Now, it might_ sound _like a crappy deal, but the only upsides—and it’s a huge one—are our allies. While some people have panthers or ponies fighting at their sides, we have…_ dragons _.”_

_\--Excerpt from the journal of Elizabeth Liones, elite warrior of Liones and the “Lightbringer” of the Seven Deadly Sins_

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Once you have tasted flight you will forever walk with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will always long to return."-Leonardo da Vinci
> 
> And so it ends, guys. Meliodas and Elizabeth soar off into a world unknown to us and to them, one open for exploration, and we watch the sunset fade out.  
> Roll.  
> Them.  
> Credits.


	18. Sneak Peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a quick peek at two potential sequel ideas. One follows the movie, and the other...let's see if you can figure it out.

I.

"Did I upset you, big baby boo?" 

"Oh, shut up." Green eyes glared out at the ocean. The woman with the helmet snickered, tossing the stone he'd just flicked at her between her hands before chucking it over her shoulder. His ear-flaps pricked at the sound and he glanced over his shoulder at her as she pulled it free, a long mane of silver hair falling around her shoulders as she tucked the sleek, black-and-silver flight helmet under her arm. A low whistle came from her lips, and he couldn't help but agree--except she, of course, was whistling over the magnificent landscape. And the landscape _was_  beautiful, with wisps of dove-gray fog swirling around trees with leaves that reminded him of Nadja's fire (he wondered absently who'd won the day's dragon race; his money had been on Ban and Elaine), but it was nothing-- _nothing--_ compared to the lean woman in the black flight suit.

Elizabeth looked back at him, her one visible blue eye glittering with exhilaration as she grinned. "Looks like we found another one for the map, love."

Meliodas found himself grinning back, as usual. "Guess so."

\-----------

"Dad, have you ever heard the name  _Queen Ano Theotita?"_

Bartra stiffened as a chill ran up his spine, turning to look at Elizabeth. Her blue eyes were wide, worried, but unafraid--still the look of a child.  _But a child cannot rule Liones when I am gone, and neither Margaret nor Veronica suit the position, not in this new world you've created._ Over the past five years, his genius of a daughter had grown to be more than a reckless girl who fought to defend her home. She'd become a diplomat, a tactician, a brilliant mind that played the world like a game of Maces and Talons--and he and Margaret had both agreed that she would make a brilliant heir. Moreover, she was the force behind the peace between the tribes of the Archipelago, the source of the fear of Liones's might, both her and Meliodas...and she could not hide in the sky forever. One day, she'd have to touch the ground and rule the way she was so clearly born to do.

But the Rogue Queen still haunted him, and if his heir was here, asking questions and wondering about this woman who'd massacred a group of powerful Chieftains, then she must have returned.

As a Chief, he could not endanger one of his own by putting them in the path of Ano Theotita, called the "Supreme Deity" by her devoted army.

And as a father, he could not let his daughter try to talk sense into a madwoman. 

\--------

"Who are you?" Elizabeth could hear her voice shake as she spoke, but she reached back and wrapped her fingers around the familiar hilt of her sword. Meliodas rumbled beneath her, wings of lightning and shadow beating at the air as they hovered, his teeth bared in a snarl. The masked rider didn't flinch, the elegant horns of her helmet twisting up to form a cold crown, one that made her think of ice and broken glass and thorns of iron. This rider had to be the one who'd caused the icy explosion around the trapper camp that she and Meliodas destroyed (with Elaine and Ban's help, but that was beside the point), the one who'd humiliated them and caused her so much maddening confusion. Her pride roared at the sight of the other rider, at their staff and their perfect stance and the icy glint of gold hidden behind their mask, and Meliodas roared with her, his rage and love twisted around hers and lending her his immeasurable strength. 

Because his fury was directed at the dragon the rider stood upon--a Night Fury, with eyes as green as poison, like acid instead of emeralds, and scales of black and deepest violet. It was beautiful, but it was their enemy, and she knew instinctively that Meliodas was furious at this dragon for allowing him to believe that he was the only sane individual of his race left. And she hated this dragon for causing him pain, even though she should've been ecstatic at finding another Night Fury.

 _"Who are you,"_ she snarled again, and it was a threat this time, not a question; Meliodas unleashed a shriek that had struck fear into their enemies hundreds, thousands of times before. The other Night Fury did nothing, regarding them with a look of cold disdain. She felt his rage spike, and she locked the fin into place, standing and unsheathing her sword fluidly. Elizabeth clicked the button to set it alight, preparing to lunge forward--

And screamed in horror as claws gripped her shoulders, ripping her off of Meliodas's back.  _No, no, no--MELIODAS!_

He was already climbing, trying to reach her, but this fin wasn't built for solo flight or anything but gliding safely. She watched him shift to semi-human helplessly, watched as he tried to maneuver his smaller body to create less drag--as gravity kicked in and he started to fall with a roar of **_"ELIZABETH!"_**

And she screamed, loud and raw, hating the the masked rider and their Night Fury, as her beloved was left to freeze and drown in the icy waters of the Archipelago.

 

* * *

 

**_Possibility No. Two_ **

"If we're going to pull this off, we need them."

The thief raised his eyebrows. "These...Sins? Why?"

A snort came from the masked figure. "Not all of them. No, the Monstrous Nightmare and the glasses kid are certainly worthless, and the Woolly Howl and the flying chick would only be useful if we could manipulate them--and we can't. The Deathsong is a maybe and so's its rider, and the Silver Phantom isn't going to cooperate. No, the only two we need are _these two_." She jabbed gloved fingers at two sketches, and the thief could picture her eyes narrowing. "Take a look."

He picked up the sketches obediently, gave them both a quick glance. "The little princess? What's she worth?"

She huffed. "Look _closer_."

The thief gritted his teeth in annoyance, but he obliged. All he'd caught before were the iconic bangs and long silver hair, but now... Blade-sharp eyes stared out at him, a few small scars decorating her cheek and her shoulders, the emblem of a sleek white dragon painted onto the shoulder of her equally sleek black flight suit. A sword hilt was visible across her shoulder, a feral grin twisting her lips into a look of terrifying intelligence. No, this wasn't the sketch of the little princess. This was a soldier who'd been through war, this was a genius whose madness made her all the more alluring, this was ruthlessness and power and brilliance all wrapped into one competent, deadly package. "Okay, so the princess is...not as princessy as I thought. And?" He glanced at the second sketch--and froze. "Oh no. Oh, fuck no. You are not making me work with _him_."

Green eyes glinted out from under wild bangs, lips curved in an easy smirk that seemed to just  _scream_ "I know something you don't know". Scales ran over his cheekbones and formed a delicate pattern around his eyes, four ear-flaps flattened and relaxed, Patches of dark, leathery scales with little pink scars decorated his neck and shoulders, no doubt continuing down beyond the loose sleeves of the white-green tunic he wore. Black wings were folded neatly against his back, his body the picture of relaxed nonchalance, but there was something about him that spoke of a coiled, predatory energy.  _Because he is a predator, technically. Night Furies are apex predators, even if they're traitors and generally complete and utter assholes._ Those green eyes seemed to spike with fire at that, and the thief tossed the sketch across the table with a low growl, pale violet flames sparking in his throat.  _Why is it that he's still haunting me?_

"The girl and the dragon are a package deal, I'm afraid. We take one, the other comes down on us in full force--and we can't handle that."

"So take him, then, and leave me out of it!" he snapped. "Or take her and leave him; since he can't  _fly--"_

"There are two issues with that." She held up two fingers; the thief narrowly resisted the urge to snap those slim, condescending fingers off, clawed gauntlets and all. "One, like you said, he can't fly without her, but he'll still find a way to rain hell on us. Two, do not make the mistake of thinking that the biggest threat in that pair is your brother. Elizabeth might be human, but she's also ruthless, and she's a fearless, reckless fighter--and those are the worst kind. Let me make this clear: if the dragon is taken, she will not hesitate to kill anyone in her way in order to get him back. And worst of all, she's ingenious--the world is her chessboard, and she always knows just what move to make. He's clever and dangerous too, but in different ways than her; it's what makes them such a formidable team. The other dragons and their riders are all similar, but they're so fundamentally different and still so powerful. If we have them against us, we're done for."

A low growl came from his throat. "And if they're with us?"

He could sense her smile more than see it, something wild and inhuman. "Then even the gods will cower before us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ano Theotita: "Ano" comes from the first two syllables of the Greek word for "supreme"; "Theotita" means--you guessed it--Deity.
> 
> Try to guess who the thief, the masked dragon rider, and the half-masked criminal are!


End file.
